Full Circle
by Denise Felt
Summary: Cmdr. Straker is forced to deal with a possible security leak at SHADO: his exwife.


Full Circle (A UFO Story) written by Denise Felt Copyright 2002  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
She sat at her glossy new oak desk in her new executive suite office and looked around her. She had made it. Finally, after all her hard work, she had made it to the top. She heard voices carrying vaguely from far beneath the open window, fellow executives on their way home after the big party in the conference rooms. She should be going home, too. But not yet. She wanted the chance to savor this moment for just a little while longer.  
  
Philip had told her that she was foolish to go back to school. She had more money than she could spend; what more did she want? She hadn't been able to give him an answer, at least one that made sense. Because it had nothing to do with money. She had wanted.... something. Something that was hers. Something to leave behind, to say to the world that she had lived. And she had done it; had succeeded in the world of business. She wished Philip had lived long enough to see it. How surprised he would have been!  
  
She missed him. Even now, after all these months. His gruff manner, his unwavering devotion. He would have stood by her tonight at that party, grinning with pride at his little wife's accomplishments. He still wouldn't have understood what drove her, what had made her push and push until her life had become what she wanted it to be. But he would have been proud of her nonetheless.  
  
But she knew. She alone knew why she had pushed. Why she had needed to push. When life knocked you flat, you only had two choices: either get up and fight back or lay there and die. There had been a time, mercifully short, when she had wanted to do just that. Lay down and die. But inside her, so deep that she'd been unaware of its existence until then, a part of her refused to give up. So she had fought. She had decided to take all that she could from life, so that the next time it socked her, she wouldn't be left with nothing. And she had won that round. Because even when Philip had unexpectedly died of a heart attack driving home from work nearly a year ago, she'd gone on. She had just received a promotion at her firm; not much, but it gave her something to cling to during those dark days. And she had made it through. She liked to think that she was stronger than ever before. Wiser. Not such a sissy anymore.  
  
She hadn't cried when Philip died. Sometimes she still felt guilty about that. She had loved him. Not passionately, of course. Nothing like her first marriage, an intense fire she still carried the scorchmarks from. No. Marriage to Philip had been quiet, a calm cocoon that had surrounded her with safety and security. He had adored her since childhood, and his stalwart heart had never wavered over the years. Even through her first marriage he had stayed in contact with her family, had known of her pain and betrayal, and had offered a comforting shoulder to cry on after her bitter divorce. At first, she had refused his proposal, as she had years before. But he had worn her down; helping her through the numb months of grief, the crying jags that went on for days. He'd been a rock to cling to in a world gone mad. And she had thankfully clung. She wasn't sure even now that she would have survived if not for him.  
  
But she was getting maudlin. This was a night for success. She wouldn't dwell on lost causes. She leaned back in her leather chair and surveyed her new domain. Cream linen walls, a ficus tree in the corner, nearly a mile of pale cream carpet, and a desk that was sheer beauty. She ran a loving hand over the grain of it. It felt like success, and she smiled.  
  
She no longer heard sounds from outside and got up to look out the window. City lights gleamed everywhere, but there were few cars in the parking lot and no one loitering by the fountain out front. They'd all gone home. Home to spouse, family, or just a friend who could share their excitement about their work. She met the gaze of her reflection in the windowpane and wondered suddenly if she'd worked for the wrong thing. Maybe a career wasn't what she really wanted, after all. Her mouth quirked into a sad smile. Fine time to realize that one, wasn't it?  
  
Her taffeta skirts rustled softly as she returned to her chair. A line from a nursery rhyme began running through her head: Mary, Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow? She had always hated that rhyme. She knew better than anyone just how well her garden grew. It didn't. It was an empty place, full of harsh winds and dust. All the dreams of a lifetime that had died pitiful deaths were buried there. Her failed first marriage was there. And her son....  
  
She shook herself and turned on the computer on her desk. Something, anything to take her mind off of painful subjects. She was at the top of her profession, a businesswoman with the world at her fingertips. She would not wish for what no longer was, what had never really been. Except in her heart. Surely the passing years had proven that, if nothing else? But she found herself going to a familiar website anyway, as if her fingers were acting independently of her mind. She clicked on the menu button marked Staff.  
  
And sat back with a sigh. There he was. Still so beautiful that it hurt to look at him. Still so lean and mesmerizing, with his passionate nature hidden at the back of those deep blue eyes. It unnerved her sometimes to realize that she had ever been his wife, ever shared his bed, ever known his love. But had she? Had she really? Even after all this time, she didn't know. Had it all been a lie? Or had there once been a time when he had cared?  
  
It was that question that continually haunted her, kept her worrying those years over and over in her mind endlessly. Had he ever loved her? And if he had, when had he stopped? She ran a finger on the screen along the line of his jaw, remembering the feel of it, the texture of his skin. He had seemed to burn for her beneath that hard flesh, as she had for him. As though he could never get enough of her. As though she was everything. When had that changed? Or had it all been just a part of his charm; that intent look in those blue eyes, the arms that had crushed her to him? Had all of it been some elaborate act, like the roles he played in his movies? But if that was so, why? That was what she always came back to: why pretend at all? She had loved him with everything that was in her. He could have been so much less than what he had seemed to be, and she would still have loved him. Why make himself seem so perfect? Where was the need?  
  
She clicked back to the main page with a weary sigh. Still so many unanswered questions. Over twelve years had passed since she had first laid eyes on him, and she felt no nearer to understanding him now than she had then. Would it always be that way? Would she go to her grave never knowing, never being sure that she had done the right thing in divorcing him? But what else could she have done? She'd have lost what pitifully little remained of her self-respect if she'd stayed any longer. He'd all but told her that he was tired of her. Surely even a fool like her could read the signs without assistance: never phoning to say he'd be late, staying out all night, his refusal to answer even the simplest question about what he'd been doing. Not to mention the women.  
  
But she wouldn't think of that. It was just too lowering. She stared at the large logo at the top of the webpage, frowning for the thousandth time as she read it. Harlington-Straker Film Studios. Oh, the logo itself gave her no cause to frown. It was certainly stylish. And bold. But it was just so odd. What had made him go into the film industry? She would have laid odds against him ever leaving the military. What had been her father's term for him? A lifer. That was it. Ed had been a lifer. Career military. He'd have made general in ten more years. Everyone had said so. Instead he had become a film studio executive within a year of the divorce. Producing high class movies for the masses. Starring in some of them. Winning oscars. She shook her head at the absurdity of it. Like everything else, it simply made no sense.  
  
She noticed the time on her ornate wall clock. It was very late. She should head home. But nothing waited for her there but the echoing emptiness of her house. Grimly, she clicked back to her ex-husband's picture. She stared at it for a long time, trying to see past those secretive eyes to the man she had once thought she knew. Why would anyone so firmly set in one direction suddenly do an aboutface and go off in another direction? What could be enough of a motive? Money? But Ed had always been very careless of money, as if it was just there to be used. He had never shown any desire to increase his income. Desire? Had he harbored some secret desire to one day be a movie star? She snorted. Not Ed Straker! He'd been so focused on making a difference in the world, following in the footsteps of his father before him, certain of his place in the larger scheme of things in a way that she had always envied. Love? Had he fallen in love with someone who had redirected his passions into another area than the military? It was possible, she supposed. Although she had trouble imagining anyone changing the least thing about him.  
  
"Why, Ed?" she asked his photo on the computer screen, unaware that she spoke out loud. "What changed you?" Then she noticed for the first time that beneath the photo was a brief biography of the studio head. She scanned it quickly, hoping for a clue to help her understand. But the bio was completely uninformative. It didn't even mention his long military career, which certainly should have been referred to, even if only in passing. Mary frowned, clicking back to the staff page for a moment to check Alec Freeman's bio. Maybe his would mention military service. It might even mention his long friendship with Ed throughout their military careers. She read through it swiftly, and then again much more slowly. Nothing. Just studio business. How odd. Why would there be no mention of their military training? Okay, so it was all rather odd. How often did a colonel in Air Force Intelligence become a studio executive in the first place? But surely it couldn't be something worth hiding either. Her eyes widened slightly. Or could it?  
  
Swiftly, not letting herself dwell on the insanity of her thoughts, she pulled up the USAF database. She knew her ex-husband's ID number and was soon able to get into his file. She only wanted to know one thing. When had he retired? While they had been married? She couldn't believe it. Sometime that year after the divorce then? Suddenly, she had to know. She checked his records carefully, but found no notation of retirement. That was strange. She went to her father's file to double-check. Yes, there was his retirement date listed. Even the notice of his death. She clicked back to Ed's file, scanning its contents minutely. No retirement date. None. What did that mean? What on Earth could it mean?  
  
Eventually she shut down the computer and left her office, too tired to keep running around in circles inside her mind.  
  
***  
  
"Well, Alec. Don't come in here with that long face! I've got enough on my plate right now. Bernhardt just broke her contract, and the director is pulling out hair. Whatever crisis you're going to throw at me can't be that bad. Why don't you handle it yourself?"  
  
Alec Freeman sighed as he looked at the papers in his hand. "Ed, this isn't something I can deal with. It's your problem."  
  
Straker resignedly sat back in his studio office chair and eyed his second- in-command. "All right, Alec. Get it off your chest."  
  
His old friend sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, fidgeting with the papers. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to explain the problem, which made Straker frown. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.  
  
"Alec?"  
  
Freeman glanced up at him. "Ed, someone has accessed your military records."  
  
"What?" Whatever Straker had expected to hear, it hadn't been that.  
  
Alec sighed. "Last night. The flags went up immediately."  
  
"Has security brought them in?" Straker asked, wondering why anyone would be digging in his records.  
  
"Uh, no." Alec swallowed and risked another glance at his commanding officer. At Straker's lifted brow, he said, "We thought we should inform you first. In case you wanted to handle it yourself." Straker frowned. "You know standard procedure, Alec. You hardly need me to tell you after all these years. Have them brought in for questioning."  
  
"Ed..." Col. Freeman did not look up from the papers. "It's not that simple. We ran a check on the computer used to access your file and came up with the registered user, but..."  
  
"Come off it, Alec!" Straker was impatient with all this dithering. It wasn't like Alec to hesitate like this, and it was irritating. "Who accessed the file?"  
  
"Mary Rutland."  
  
The silence that followed these words was lengthy. Finally, Alec chanced a look at his old friend. Ed was as white as a sheet. "Who was on duty?" the commander asked huskily.  
  
"Ford. He showed it to me, and I told him I'd take care of it. I knew you wouldn't want this handed over to security. They don't usually bother with politeness."  
  
Straker ran a shaky hand over his eyes. "No. They don't. Thank you, Alec. I'll deal with it." He held out a hand for the papers.  
  
"Ed..." Again Alec hesitated as he handed over the report. As close as the two friends were, there were a few things they never discussed. And one of those was Mary Straker Rutland. "What are you going to do?"  
  
The commander was silent as he read through the report. Then he glanced at his friend. "I'm sure it was merely curiosity that took her there, Alec. She didn't hack into the file; she didn't need to. She has my ID code."  
  
"But, Ed. Why now? Why that file?"  
  
"I don't know." Straker's look was grim. "But I want to know if any more flags get raised. Immediately. Do you understand?"  
  
Freeman nodded. "You're not going to do anything about the current situation?"  
  
"No. It may be an isolated incident. And it's not as though she looked any deeper than the main file. I refuse to disrupt her life over something that may turn out to be quite trivial."  
  
Alec was unconvinced. "Do you really think it is, Ed?"  
  
But Straker gave him no answer.  
  
***  
  
"Have dinner with me?"  
  
"No."  
  
Nick sighed. "Come on, Mary. Just once?"  
  
She looked up from her work and frowned. "I believe I said no, Nick."  
  
He crossed his arms. "You know, it's a good thing that I've got a tough skin or you'd have torn me apart by now. But I'm patient."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I don't want you to be patient. I want you to go away!"  
  
"Cruelty, thy name is woman!" he misquoted dramatically, laying a hand on his heart.  
  
Mary grinned. "Does that mean you finally got the message?"  
  
He came forward to perch on the corner of her desk. "Of course, I got the message. You're playing hard to get."  
  
She was surprised into a chuckle. "You know, if you worked this hard on your accounts, you'd be a senior partner in the firm by now."  
  
Nick shook his head. "You're a hard case, sweet Mary. But I'm a determined man. You'll see. One of these days, you'll go out with me."  
  
"Sure," she retorted dryly. "And be forgotten after a week. No thanks, Nick."  
  
He grinned. "Mary, Mary! Have you been gossiping about me with the girls in the office?"  
  
"Go away!" she answered, hiding a smile.  
  
He gave a dramatic sigh and headed for the door of her office. "Okay. But that doesn't mean that I'm accepting defeat. If you need anything, I'll be sobbing my heart out in my office."  
  
She looked up as he reached the door. "Nick!"  
  
He turned around swiftly. "You've changed your mind?"  
  
"What? No." She leaned her chin on one elegant hand. "You were in the military, weren't you?"  
  
He gave an audible groan and clutched his chest. "Oh, the agony! You've broken my heart at last! I offer you the world, and all you want is my military career. Wicked woman!"  
  
She grinned in spite of herself. "Well, if I am, I wonder why you would want to date me?"  
  
He came closer to lean over her desk. "Mary, my darling. It makes me even more determined to enjoy your... company." He wiggled his brows meaningfully at her.  
  
"You're an idiot," she said, not in the least impressed with his theatrics. "Weren't you in the RAF?"  
  
He sighed and gave it up. "Yeah. Six years. Why do you need to know?"  
  
She said, "Have you ever checked out your record on the database?"  
  
Nick shrugged. "Sure. Not recently, though. Why?"  
  
She swiveled her computer screen around to face him. "Show me."  
  
He met her eyes for a moment, then seemed to realize that she was in earnest. He typed and clicked for a few minutes, then turned the screen back to her. "There!"  
  
Mary glanced through the file quickly, not wanting to read it too thoroughly. It felt almost like an invasion of privacy. When she reached the bottom, she noted his retirement date. She laid a finger on it. "You retired nine years ago."  
  
Nick shrugged again. "Yeah."  
  
She sat back and thought. "Nick, what would you do if you went to this site one day, and your retirement wasn't listed?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"What would you do? What would it mean to you?"  
  
He frowned, obviously trying to figure out her reasons for wanting to know. But she had no intention of telling him. It sounded insane enough even to herself. "Well, I'd be wondering if I'd been recalled to active duty, I suppose."  
  
"You wouldn't think that maybe it was just a glitch?"  
  
"Maybe. But it's not likely. It's there now, so there's no problem."  
  
She gave him a straight look. "So, your first thought would be that you were still in the military. That you hadn't retired after all."  
  
"Why does it matter?"  
  
She smiled. "Oh, no reason. I was just curious. Thanks, Nick."  
  
He watched her go back to her work as though the past few minutes had never happened. As he left her office, he muttered, "You're losing it, Mary. Completely bonkers!"  
  
"I heard that," she called after him. After staring at the computer screen for a while, she clicked onto the USAF database again. Just to be sure.  
  
***  
  
The second time the flags went up, Straker was in his HQ office deep beneath the studio. When Lt. Ford brought the report in, the commander was discussing lunar flights with Col. Freeman.  
  
Ford waited for the commander to acknowledge his presence, then handed him the report. "Excuse me, sir. You asked to be notified if anyone accessed your files again."  
  
Straker's lips tightened, but he merely gave the communications officer a curt thank you and dismissed him. He did not look at Alec, but at the papers in front of him.  
  
Freeman waited in silence while his friend perused the report. Finally, he could be patient no longer. "Well, Ed? Was it Mary again?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Alec got up and poured himself another bourbon from the corner dispenser to give himself time to think of how to say what needed said. When he returned to his chair, he said, "Listen, Ed. You can't ignore it this time. You'll have to alert security."  
  
Straker looked up angrily. "Just throw her to the dogs, Alec? Is that what you think I should do?"  
  
His old friend sighed and dropped his eyes to his drink. "You could always try talking to her yourself."  
  
When he looked up again, his commander was shaking his head slowly. "The last time I spoke with Mary, she told me she wanted nothing more to do with me. I've tried to honor that request, Alec. I've stayed away. Do you honestly think she would even speak to me?"  
  
"I don't know!" Freeman disliked the pain he saw in his friend's eyes, but felt helpless in ridding him of it. Damn the woman, anyway! Hadn't she hurt him enough? "I'll tell you this, Ed," he said finally. "If you don't find out what she's doing, security will. And you know how they'll handle it."  
  
Straker ran a hand across his eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "I know what they'll do."  
  
"There's only three options where the security of this organisation is involved," Alec persisted. "One: the amnesia drug. Two: recruitment into SHADO. Or three: death."  
  
"Alec, you and I both know that the amnesia drug won't stop what she's doing. Whatever she's looking for, she'll only forget about for so long before searching again. We'd be right back in this situation in a month or so. And recruitment is out of the question. She's a civilian with absolutely no military training. She'd never pass the tests, even if we could manufacture an excuse for her to join SHADO."  
  
"So that leaves death."  
  
The eyes that met Alec's were tormented. "I can't, Alec. My God, it was my worst nightmare during our marriage. What would I do if she ever suspected? I knew they'd kill her. The organisation is more important than one individual. It has to be. I'll tell you, I was almost relieved when she divorced me, because it meant that she was finally out of danger."  
  
"Do you have any idea what she's looking for, Ed?"  
  
Straker shook his head wearily. "I've been all over that file and can't find anything that she'd want to know. She hasn't even tried to access anything but the main page. She hasn't hacked into anything else at all."  
  
Alec frowned. "Is there anything on that page that would interest her?"  
  
"No. Absolutely nothing that she doesn't already know. Alec, everything on that page was from before we married. Just the bare bones stripped of any classified information. She knew all that. She saw my commendations, my medals. I hid none of that from her except the details. And she doesn't seem to be looking for details."  
  
They brooded for several minutes. Eventually Alec said, "Well, there has to be something! Ed, do you want me to speak to her?"  
  
Straker met his eyes with a grateful look, but nonetheless shook his head. "No, Alec. I don't think you'll be able to fob her off with some excuse. She knows you'd say anything to help me out."  
  
"What will you do?"  
  
The commander's lips tightened into a grim line. "I'll think of something."  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
"Hello, Gay. How is it going?"  
  
Lt. Ellis smiled at her commanding officer on the viewscreen at her console in the Command Sphere of Moonbase. "It's quiet, sir. We've been able to get most of the upgrades done that you wanted."  
  
Straker smiled slightly. "Good. Listen, Gay. I need someone for a special assignment."  
  
Her heart leapt, but she kept her face calm. "Did you have someone specific in mind, sir? Or will anyone do?"  
  
"Actually, I'd like Lt. Harrington, if you can spare her?" he said.  
  
There was only one answer to that question, and Gay knew it. "Of course, sir. How soon do you need her?"  
  
"There's a lunar flight for this evening, isn't there? Send her then and have her report directly to me when she arrives Earthside."  
  
She ventured a comment. "It will be very late when she gets in, sir. Are you sure it wouldn't be better if she waits till morning to report?"  
  
"No, Lieutenant. I'll be here all night."  
  
"Very well, sir."  
  
When he broke communications, Gay turned to where Joan was grinning at her console. "You heard?"  
  
Lt. Harrington nodded, sighing gustily. "I'm to report to him directly when I get in."  
  
Gay frowned at her. "It's an assignment, Joan, not an assignation."  
  
Joan hugged herself, not at all dismayed by the rebuke. She knew how they all felt about the commander. And how eagerly they awaited any chance to do a special assignment for him. "I know," she said dreamily and returned to her work.  
  
***  
  
Lt. Harrington packed her kit carefully, squeezing much more into the small space than others could simply because she didn't mind a wrinkle or two. She was newer to Moonbase than either Lt. Ellis or Lt. Barry. Gay had come to them once Moonbase was ready to be staffed, and Nina had been with SHADO since its inception. Joan had joined once Moonbase was fully operational back in 1980, three years after Gay and nine after Nina.  
  
But regardless of when they came to SHADO, they shared a common problem. They all three were in love with their commanding officer. Oh, none of them would have admitted it, even under torture. But it was true nonetheless. And it said a great deal about their teamwork over the years that never once had any of them fought over him or even made a slighting comment to each other about his attitude toward them. Which was a good thing. Who could face him after such a scene and try to justify her actions? It would be beyond humiliating.  
  
Joan supposed, as she shoved her brush along the side of the kit before closing it, that his distance alone made it possible for the three of them to work together in harmony. Commander Straker was rarely on Moonbase, and when he was, they were extremely careful not to let on that his presence affected them in any way. Their commander was nothing if not quick, and none of them wanted him to become aware of their regard. At least, not until he could be brought to return it. Which fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the point of view, had never happened.  
  
Occasionally, they had the opportunity to work closely with the commander. These were times to be cherished, as well as fretted over. Although Joan would have gladly died for her commander in any dangerous circumstance that presented itself, she would have died rather than have him aware that she adored him. Being female, she saw no contradiction in feeling this way. She had only once before been allowed to work with him on a special assignment. Her dreams for months afterward had centered around every word he had spoken to her and every glance he had given her during those five wonderful days. She assumed that the other two women did the same.  
  
As she fastened her seatbelt prior to takeoff, she wondered idly why it was that he was so easily adored by women with such differing personalities? Gay was serious and shy, Nina was vivacious and lively, and Joan... Well, Joan thought of herself as the ornery one. How did such diverse women find a mutual object to love and admire?  
  
It sounded silly, but she supposed that it was because they recognized in him the epitome of the classic hero. Brave. Stern, but just. And since he was also unexpectedly kind at odd moments, he had unknowingly caused the loyalty due to their commanding officer to deepen into love. She was certain that he was unaware of it. It would have embarrassed him greatly to know that he was the object of their maidenly fantasies. Joan grinned suddenly. He wasn't the only one who would be embarrassed if that ever came out!  
  
As the lunar module blasted off the launchpad and made its way toward Earth, she looked out the viewport and wondered what this special assignment would entail?  
  
***  
  
As Mary finished up the breakfast dishes, she told herself again that she was doing the right thing. She even said it out loud, in hopes that hearing it might cause the butterflies in the pit of her stomach to settle down. This was a big step, but it was also a necessary one. She'd known it for a while now. But in the past few weeks, she'd become certain of it. She couldn't stay in this house alone any longer. She needed companionship. She only hoped that she would find someone whom she could bear to have around her. At thirty-eight, she was quite aware that she was settled in her ways and didn't like change. But, God! How she needed it! Something, anything to alleviate the tedium of her days! She should be excited about taking in a lodger. It would be an adventure, surely it would? But she could hear her mother's voice in her mind, telling her sternly that she was letting herself in for trouble by opening her house to who-knew-what kind of person and that she'd live to rue the day. Her mother had often punctuated her remarks with that phrase. How many times had she told Mary that she'd rue the day? Innumerable. And had Mary ever rued the day? Mary grimaced as she wiped the plates and put them away. Yes, many times.  
  
But there was something inside her that had been whispering that she was dying. Not physically. It wasn't anything like that. It was mental. An emotional stagnation that was killing her by degrees. The voice had been whispering for a while now, ever since her husband had died eight months ago. And it had gotten louder. Eventually, it had become as loud as her mother's voice. And she had heeded it. Known that she must. She didn't want to die. Not like that. Not from the inside out. She wanted to live!  
  
She put the last of the dishes away and firmed her lips. She wouldn't be a coward about this. Taking in a lodger was a good idea, and she was going to follow it through to wherever it led her. And she would not rue the day! No matter what.  
  
Nonetheless, when she glanced out the kitchen window and saw the girl approaching across the field, her heart did a somersault and her breath caught. Not yet, she thought frantically. Not until I'm ready! But she opened the back door and came out onto the veranda, folding her hands in front of her to keep them from wringing nervously. She knew it had to be the girl who'd called about the advertisement in the paper. Who else would be out this way? But Mary wondered vaguely why she was coming across the back field instead of up the front drive. Mary watched as she approached, then saw her wave a hand as she caught sight of her standing on the veranda. Swallowing her nervousness, Mary lifted a tentative hand and waved back.  
  
Once the girl was closer, Mary could see that she was very pretty, with large laughing eyes and a small pointed chin. She looked a bit like a pixie, and Mary relaxed into a smile. How could she fear a pixie?  
  
"Hi!" the girl called, stopping at the veranda rail and leaning on it.  
  
"Hello," Mary answered. "You must be Joan."  
  
Joan grinned. "That's me. I hope you don't mind my coming up this way. My car's parked down the road a pace, but I just had to check out the land first."  
  
Mary blinked, realizing that the fancy equipment that hung around Joan's neck was a camera. "Oh. Um, that's fine. Won't you come sit?"  
  
"Thanks." Joan slipped onto the veranda and sat at the small table while Mary brought out the tea tray. She took her cup from Mary with a smile and said, "You've got some wonderful country here. I'll have to see it in different lighting, of course, but I'm certain that it's just what I'm looking for. Lots of scope for my work."  
  
Mary wasn't sure if she should take credit for the scenery. "It is lovely," she said finally. "You're a photographer?"  
  
"Yeah. Not quite the big time yet, but I'm working on it. I've done a few galleries so far. Got a book in the works." She gave a careless shrug. "We'll see."  
  
Mary was impressed. "It must be wonderful to be so accomplished. What kind of pictures do you take?"  
  
Joan grinned. "All kinds. But lately I've been focusing on landscapes." Joan looked around at the surrounding fields. "This is going to be great. Just great."  
  
Meeting those laughing eyes, Mary thought so too. "Would you like to see the house?"  
  
***  
  
Joan found the interior of the house as neat as a pin. It should have unnerved her; excessive neatness always did. She used to tell her father that her mother's parlor made her break out in hives. But somehow, she wasn't unnerved at all. There was just something about the place that seemed cozy. The kitchen got plenty of sun, which made the white cabinets and lacy curtains seem more cheerful than stark. The dining room was another matter. This room got little sun, and the drapes were drawn, making it even more somber. However, the table and chairs were a lovely mahogany that shone with polishing.  
  
She liked the living room most of all. It boasted a large fireplace, which was flanked by comfortable chairs with colorful afghans thrown over the backs. Plants brightened the corners, and a few still-lifes hung on the walls. She said, "This must be perfect on a rainy night."  
  
Mary considered. "Yes, it is," she realized, as if seeing the room for the first time. "The bedrooms are upstairs."  
  
Joan followed her up the narrow stairs to the upper hallway. The stairway cut the upper floor in two, with rooms on either side and a window at each end. Mary showed her into the first room on the right. "This will be your room. I'm afraid that it's rather small, but it gets the morning sun in all the windows. It's a very cheerful room."  
  
Joan noticed how hesitant her hostess was to voice her opinion and wondered when the last time was that it had been asked. "I think so too," she said. "I'm surprised that you don't have it for your room."  
  
"Oh, no!" Mary said, as if that was unthinkable. "The master bedroom is across the hall."  
  
Joan almost asked her what bearing that had on anything, but stopped herself in time. She didn't know this woman yet. No need to put her foot in it this early in their acquaintance. She looked the room over and finally said, "I don't think all my gear will fit in here."  
  
"There's another room just down the way," Mary said, and led her back out into the hall. She passed a door and opened the third. "It was used for storage, but I've cleaned it out. Feel free to use it for whatever you want. It's a bit dark for a sitting room, but you may not mind that."  
  
Joan looked around the room. "It'll be perfect for a darkroom. And I can keep all my equipment in here, so that it won't clutter up the bedroom." She smiled at Mary. "This is better than I expected. Thanks."  
  
"Oh. Well, you're welcome," Mary said, flustered by the praise. She gestured to the middle door as they returned to the hall. "This is the bath. You won't need to share it, since my room has a bath attached." She led the way back toward the stairs, but turned back when she noticed that Joan wasn't following her.  
  
Joan stood in front of the door opposite her sitting room. It was one of two doors on this side of the hall, the other being the door to the master bedroom down the other end of the hall opposite her bedroom door. "What room is this?" she asked.  
  
Mary's expression froze for an instant, then she said, "That room is kept locked. You needn't concern yourself with it. Shall I get the papers for you to sign?"  
  
"Yes." Joan came away from the door and down the hall toward the stairs. But before following her hostess downstairs, she glanced again at the locked door at the end of the hall. What secrets hid in that room?  
  
***  
  
Mary tried to stay out of Joan's way when she returned with her things, not wanting to seem interfering, but after Joan's fourth trip up the stairs with an armful of boxes, she couldn't sit by any longer. "Would you like some help?" she asked.  
  
Joan grinned. "Sure! Have at it!" and handed her a box out of her car. It was very heavy and was full of odd-looking metal plates. Joan followed her upstairs with a large box and directed her to leave hers in the sitting room. "It's darkroom equipment," she explained as they headed back downstairs.  
  
By late afternoon they had the car unpacked, and Joan was sitting among the boxes in her small bedroom. Mary smiled at her, saying, "You'll want to get some of this put away tonight, I'm sure. I'm making a casserole for supper. It should be done in an hour. Would you like some?"  
  
Joan tossed her curly hair out of her eyes. "Are you kidding? Homecooked food? I'll be there!"  
  
After Mary left the room, quietly closing the door behind her, Joan sat up and surveyed the boxes. How she hated moving! And she already missed her luxury flat in London. Special assignment or not, she had no intention of packing up all her things and trying to fit them in here. So she had stuck with the basics; some clothes, mostly casual things for day hikes, some books that she'd been wanting to read, and some toiletries. Commander Straker had said that she'd be here a few weeks, possibly a month, so she had set that as her timetable.  
  
But somehow, she hadn't been able to keep from bringing all her camera equipment. It was wonderful that her cover would allow her time to work on her favorite hobby. She was very excited about the possibilities of the area and wanted to get started taking pictures immediately. But though she'd tried to keep her darkroom needs to a minimum, she had found that she'd been unable to leave any of her equipment behind. What if she needed it for something?  
  
She decided to unpack the bedroom things tonight and leave the sitting room things for tomorrow. As she hung up her shirts in the wardrobe, she considered her hostess. Mary seemed a very quiet woman, and Joan hoped that she'd find a way to get her to open up. She had never done well with quiet people, mostly because they considered her chatter annoying. But Mary had seemed not to mind it so far. Perhaps she was just lonely. There was something about her very quietness that suggested a princess under a spell. Joan only hoped she would know the right incantations to break the spell, or they'd never find out why she'd accessed Commander Straker's records.  
  
It was odd. She had expected to dislike Mary Rutland. Not only because she'd been married to Joan's dream man, but because she'd had the nerve to get a divorce from him. Anyone who could do that couldn't be a very nice person. But Mary had been nice. Sweet even, in that quiet way as if she constantly expected a rebuff. Joan wondered if she would still think Mary was nice once she knew her better?  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
"This is incredible!"  
  
Mary demurred. "Oh, no. It's just casserole."  
  
Joan got herself a second helping. "Well, it's nothing like the food I'm used to eating, let me tell you."  
  
"You don't cook?"  
  
Her new lodger shook her head and swallowed a bite. "The neighbor's dog won't even eat what I cook. No, I eat out mostly. And when I can't do that, I have a microwave dinner. That's about the extent of my culinary skills. As my father puts it, I can burn water."  
  
Mary grinned. "Perhaps you just need some practice. No one ever starts out a good cook, you know."  
  
Joan lifted a pixie brow. "You?"  
  
Her hostess chuckled. "Oh, yes! I was terrible. My mother taught me the basics, but I was a complete washout when it came to anything fancy. I still remember the first time I tried to cook a special recipe. It was my one month anniversary, and I was going to surprise my husband with his favorite meal. I'd gotten the recipe from his family's housekeeper, and it didn't look difficult. I was sure I could do it."  
  
Her smile was so wistful that Joan had to hold back a laugh. "What happened?" she asked, pretty certain of the answer.  
  
Mary met her eyes with a wry expression. "Disaster! The meat burned, the broth scorched, and the biscuits wouldn't rise. They were as hard as rocks."  
  
Joan giggled. "What did your husband say?"  
  
"He was wonderful about it. I was such a mess when he got home, in tears with the kitchen full of smoke. He took one look around and pretended there was nothing wrong. He lit the candles in the dining room, set out the wine, and ate that awful food as if it actually was edible."  
  
"How sweet!"  
  
Mary sighed and got up from the small kitchen table to clear her dishes. "Yes, he was," she said softly.  
  
After a minute, Joan brought her dishes to the sink and picked up a towel to dry those Mary had placed in the strainer.  
  
"Oh, no. You don't have to do that," Mary told her.  
  
"Nonsense. You did all the cooking. It's the least I can do to help clean up."  
  
"Well... thanks then," her hostess said hesitantly.  
  
Joan grinned. "I promise not to break any dishes. I may not be able to cook, but I know how to do dishes."  
  
"Oh, no! I didn't think..."  
  
Now Joan laughed. "It's okay, Mary. I know you didn't. You should have seen the look on your face, though. Obviously, you're not used to having help."  
  
Mary considered. "I guess I'm not. Philip would have died before washing a dish. That was women's work."  
  
Joan made a rude noise. "And here I was thinking he was so sweet."  
  
Mary looked at her in surprise. "Philip? Sweet?"  
  
"Yeah, you know. Because he ate your burnt dinner."  
  
"Oh." Mary was silent a moment, concentrating on washing the plate in her hands. Then she said quietly, "That wasn't Philip. That was my first husband."  
  
It wasn't so much what she said as it was how she said it that made Joan bite her tongue and keep silent. Obviously, she didn't talk about her marriage to the commander. Which was a shame. Because not only did Joan need her to open up about him, but she also wanted to hear more about their relationship. It sounded so... so special. And she wondered for the first time what had gone wrong between them?  
  
***  
  
Later that night, when Mary came to her room to say good night, Joan was going through a large box full of 8x10's. There were several laid out on the desk, and Mary was drawn to the starkness of one of the black and white photos. She came closer to the desk and fingered the corner of the photograph. "This is beautiful. Did you take this?"  
  
Joan sat back next to the box on the floor and looked at her. "Yeah. On a skiing trip with some friends. I'm afraid I didn't get much skiing done. I was too busy enjoying the play of light and shadow on the snow."  
  
Mary was amazed. She'd never seen anything so mesmerizing. "You're very good."  
  
"Thanks," Joan said with a grin. "Do you take pictures?"  
  
Mary shook her head. "I have a tendency to cut people's heads off."  
  
"That's a common problem. A little practice would cure it, I'm sure."  
  
"What are those?" Mary asked, pointing to the box of photos.  
  
Joan said, "These are the extra photos. The ones on the desk there are for my book. These shots are the ones that didn't quite get the look I wanted."  
  
"But there are so many of them!" Mary said in surprise.  
  
Joan chuckled. "Yeah. Did you think great pictures happen every time I click the shutter?"  
  
Mary didn't answer, having thought just that.  
  
Joan motioned her closer. "Let me show you." She pulled out a file from the box and opened it. "Here's a shot I used three rolls on. See how different each one is from the others? I went out on four separate mornings hoping to get the perfect shot, and spent a total of about 12 hours between those four days taking pictures."  
  
Mary was looking through the photos. "All of the same house?"  
  
"Yeah." Joan picked out a few of the shots and showed them to her. "See? I was going for a mysterious look, with the morning fog extinguishing everything but the mansion itself."  
  
"This one looks good," Mary ventured cautiously.  
  
"Yes, it does," Joan agreed. "But see how the trees are too sharply outlined? I wanted them to be softer, less real. See this picture?" She held up another one. "Here the trees are right, but the fog had dispersed in the foreground. It ruined the whole effect."  
  
Mary nodded, her mind racing. She'd had no idea that photography took such skill. And patience. Joan must be very good indeed. "What about this one?" she asked, picking up a lovely one from the file that made the mansion seem like a fairy castle.  
  
"That one wasn't bad," Joan said. "But the one I chose was even better. Let me show you." She put the photos down and went to the desk for a moment. The picture she came back with was absolutely stunning. The stone house seemed almost to be floating on the clouds, like something glimpsed in a dream. "Wow," Mary murmured, unable to say more.  
  
"Thanks," Joan replied, knowing praise when she heard it. She put the photo back on the desk. "You know, you have a good eye. I'd be happy to show you how to work with a camera when you have the time. I'll bet you have some great shots inside you waiting to get out."  
  
"Oh, no." Mary was shaking her head. "I could never be as good as you." "Sure you could. It just takes practice."  
  
Mary thought of the complex equipment Joan had worn hanging from her neck this morning. "I couldn't possibly use such a fancy camera as yours!"  
  
Joan chuckled. "No, of course not. It would scare you to death. I've got one that's much easier. We'll try it out sometime, okay?"  
  
"If you're sure." Mary remained doubtful.  
  
"I tell you what," Joan said with a grin. "I'll show you how to take good pictures, and you show me how to cook without killing myself. How's that for a trade-off?"  
  
Mary relaxed. "All right." She turned to leave the bedroom, then realized that she was still clutching the photograph of the fairy castle. "Oh. I'm sorry," she said and offered it to Joan.  
  
But Joan had noticed how she was holding it. "Why don't you keep that one?"  
  
Shocked eyes met hers. "Oh, no! I couldn't!"  
  
Joan thought it was sad that Mary believed more in what she couldn't do than what she could. "Why not?" she asked with a lifted brow.  
  
"Well... it's too good."  
  
Joan shrugged. "Yeah. It is a good shot. But it's not the one I'm using for my book, so I don't need it. If you don't take it, it'll probably end up sitting in this file for the next thirty years or so. Wouldn't that be a shame?"  
  
Mary smiled shyly, meeting her eyes fleetingly before looking back at the photograph. Her slender fingers traced the line of the fog for a moment. "Thank you," she said softly and left the room as if fearing Joan might change her mind and ask for it back.  
  
Joan thought, Why, she's starved for kindness! And she wondered about it long into the night.  
  
***  
  
Joan wandered into the nearby village the next day and entered the only inn to get a sandwich. As she sat eating her meal, there was a slight commotion in the doorway, and an excited murmur went through the patrons. That producer fellow was here--- in person--- in their quiet little inn. She watched as Straker removed his sunglasses and dispassionately surveyed the room. Every inch the man in charge, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. She glanced at her wristwatch; noon on the dot. She went back to her lunch as the man behind the desk showed him down the hallway to a private parlor.  
  
It was fun to listen to the gossip after he was out of sight. It seemed that they were shooting a film on location not five miles south of the village at the old Cottingley manor (wherever that was.) She finished her meal and left the table, thinking how easy it was to establish a convenient cover when your organisation doubled as a film studio. Somebody had obviously been thinking ahead when they suggested that idea back in the beginning.  
  
She casually walked down the corridor until she found the parlor she wanted. She knocked softly, and he answered the door. "Come in, Joan."  
  
She slipped inside, and he gestured her to an armchair near the window. She sat and looked around with interest. The parlor was heavily panelled and could have been quite dark, but the commander had opened the drapes and let in the bright sunlight.  
  
He seated himself in a nearby armchair and gave her a small smile. "I almost didn't recognize you," he said after a moment.  
  
Joan grinned and flushed, rifling a hand through her dark curls. "There's something to be said for field assignments, you know." At his raised brow, she smirked. "No purple wigs."  
  
Straker gave a small chuckle. "It's not just that," he admitted. "I'm simply not used to seeing you out of uniform."  
  
She glanced down at her hiking shorts and sweater. "Hmmm," she mused playfully. "Maybe if they were silver?"  
  
He smiled, but made no comment, and Joan noticed suddenly how tired he looked. She sobered and said, "I wish there was more to report, sir."  
  
The commander held up a lean hand. "We'll get to that in a moment, Lieutenant. I'd like your impressions first."  
  
She gave him an inquiring look. "Impressions? Of Mary, you mean?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She thought for a minute. "Well," she said, not sure if she should just come out with it, but knowing that he appreciated directness, "I like her."  
  
He sat back with a small sigh and surprised her by saying, "Good."  
  
Joan blinked at him.  
  
Straker folded his hands and said, "Lieutenant, half of the reason that I chose you for this assignment was because I knew that you and Mary have a lot in common."  
  
"We do?" she asked in astonishment. Her and Mary?  
  
"Of course. Surely you've noticed it. You have always reminded me of her with your friendliness and your sense of humor."  
  
Joan was still back at his first statement. "I don't think we're anything alike, sir," she said apologetically.  
  
"Oh?" he asked in surprise.  
  
She waved a hand nervously. "Well, she's just so... I don't know. Quiet, I guess. Withdrawn. She seems very hesitant to voice her opinion, almost as if she expects to be contradicted. I mean, she has a nice smile. Don't get me wrong. And she's been very kind to me. But I wouldn't have thought we had very much in common at all."  
  
He brooded for a while, then said finally, "I haven't spoken to her in a long time, and before that..." He trailed off into silence. After a moment, he qualified, "Perhaps I should have said that you remind me of how she was when I first knew her."  
  
Joan found that information slightly unnerving. Mary had once been like her? What could change a person so much? The thought that she might someday become as reserved as Mary made her uncomfortable. Could it happen to her?  
  
The commander seemed to sense her disquiet, because he said, "Mary's mother was a little... overbearing, you might say, while she was growing up. Mary really only began to come out of her shell once we were dating."  
  
"Oh." Well, that explained a lot, Joan thought. Her own mother had been a bit that way herself, and she could understand how it was easier just to fade into the background than to deal with that manner all the time. She gave the commander an ironic look. "I'll bet her mother didn't approve of you," she said.  
  
He shook his head ruefully. "You're right. She didn't."  
  
Joan chuckled. "Good for Mary," she decided. "I'll bet her mother had someone all picked out for her, and you spoiled all her plans."  
  
"She did," he agreed quietly. "Philip Rutland."  
  
She gasped. Good God! Joan tried to get past her shock to think of something to respond to that information, but her mind wouldn't recover that quickly. The silence in the parlor stretched out. Finally, she realized that there really was nothing that could be said, so she told him, "I don't have a lot to report, sir."  
  
He stirred himself from his thoughts. "That's all right, Lieutenant. I am aware that it will take time for her to open up to you. I didn't expect you to have all the answers in one day. Please, what have you learned so far?"  
  
Joan relaxed, glad to be on safer ground. "Well, she was very kind, as I mentioned, and helped me unload my stuff from the car. She seems to have an eye for photography, but she said that she wasn't very good at it. I think it's more a confidence thing than any lack of talent, so I offered to help her learn how to take better pictures. I thought it might give us opportunities to talk, you know, while we're working. It's amazing how much you can let slip when your mind's on something else."  
  
He nodded. "Very good, Lieutenant."  
  
She grinned at his praise. "The house is a little strange. I haven't been able to figure it out just yet, but there's something very weird about it."  
  
Straker sat forward. "In what way?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know. Something..."  
  
"What is it in reference to?" he asked as she shook her head finally in defeat. "The arrangement of the rooms? The furniture?"  
  
"No," she said with a frown. "I know! It's the pictures."  
  
"What pictures?"  
  
"There aren't any pictures."  
  
"Where?" he asked, not understanding.  
  
"Anywhere," she answered with a sweeping gesture. "I mean... Everybody has photographs in their house. On the mantle. On the endtable. On the wall. You know, pictures from vacations, pictures from relatives, even pictures from weddings. But there aren't any at her house. It gives the house an unlived-in air, even though it's decorated in a fairly cheerful manner. It's almost like..." She trailed off, not wanting to complete her sentence, because it sounded melodramatic. But she had wanted to say that it was almost like time stood still there. Finally, she shrugged. "It's just weird, sir."  
  
He was frowning. "I see. I'm afraid I don't know why that would be, Joan. Perhaps Rutland didn't like photographs about. Our home was full of them." He gave a small shrug, as if to throw off that line of thought. "Styles change. People change."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Straker looked at her after a moment and asked, "Did you find her computer?"  
  
"No. She might have it in her bedroom, however. That's the only room I haven't been in yet." Then her eyes widened. "Or maybe it's in the locked room!"  
  
"What locked room?" he asked sharply.  
  
"There was a locked room upstairs," she said, getting excited. "Maybe it's her office. She wouldn't tell me what was in it. What do you think?"  
  
He considered. "Can you think of a way to get her to open the room, Joan?"  
  
She grinned at him. "No. But it doesn't matter. I'll just pick the lock."  
  
The commander's brow rose. "Oh? Lieutenant, you have unsuspected talents."  
  
Joan laughed. "Actually sir, I have a younger brother who wanted to be a spy. He showed me how to pick locks when we were teens."  
  
He shook his head at her. "Well, work on that then and let me know what you find out. Was there anything else?"  
  
"Yes, sir. She did mention you once, although I wasn't aware at the time that she was talking about you." At his inquiring look, she explained. "She just referred to you as her husband, and I assumed that she was referring to Philip. But when I asked her about it later, she said no, that it was her first husband." She frowned, thinking back to the conversation. "You know, sir. I wonder a little about her second husband. I mean, something she said... she seemed surprised that I would think he was sweet. I don't know. I wonder if she was very happy with him."  
  
He stood up suddenly and went to the window. He stared at the village outside as he asked quietly, "Do you think he was abusive, Joan?"  
  
"I don't know, sir." She wished she'd held her tongue. Obviously, that had been the wrong thing to mention to the commander. He was such a cool one normally that it came as a bit of a shock to see him react to anything. "I could be wrong. It's just that she uses such a different tone of voice when she speaks of him than when she mentions you."  
  
Straker was silent for a long time. Then he said, "What did she say about me, Joan?"  
  
She settled back in her chair, relieved to have the topic changed. "We were talking about cooking and how no one starts out a good cook. She was telling me about the time that she burnt your dinner."  
  
He turned and looked at her with a frown. "Burnt my dinner? Are you sure she was referring to me? Mary was an excellent cook. I don't remember her ever burning a meal."  
  
"Really? She said it was at your first month anniversary. She'd made your favorite dish, and when you came home, she was in tears because it had burnt. She said you ate it anyway as if there was nothing wrong with it."  
  
His face softened as he remembered. "Oh, yes. I do recall that night. But it wasn't really very badly burnt, Lieutenant. Just charred a bit around the edges. I'd forgotten all about that. I wonder why she remembered it?"  
  
Joan almost blurted, Are you kidding? but stopped herself in time. What he considered no big deal had meant a lot to his wife. And sweetness like the kind he had shown that night was never easily forgotten. No wonder that years after their divorce, Mary still thought of him as a sweet man.  
  
After a few minutes, he asked, "Was there anything else, Lieutenant?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
He turned from the window and walked her to the parlor door. "Then we'll wait and see what you learn from the locked room. And Joan..." He gave her a warm look out of those deep blue eyes. "Thank you."  
  
She found herself suddenly unable to form words to reply, so she simply nodded and left the parlor.  
  
He waited until her footsteps could be heard no longer in the corridor, then returned to the chair. He had known that this assignment would be hard, but he'd had little choice in the matter. It was deal with Mary himself, or let security have her. And he was quite willing to endure whatever hardship that developed rather than turn her over to them.  
  
But he hadn't expected it to be quite so painful. The past five years since their divorce was something he didn't like to contemplate very often. It was hard enough being without her, but he'd reassured himself that he'd done everything he could to make her life easy for her. His solicitor had been furious with him for setting up the alimony the way he had, as well as the child support and the trust fund. But then, he hadn't understood Straker's motives. He'd only been trying to get through the divorce with as little damage to Straker's income as possible. That hadn't been Straker's goal, however. He'd been much more concerned with how Mary would manage without him. And he'd done what he could. God knew, it was pitifully little in the end. But he'd consoled himself that she would be well cared for in the only way that she'd let him.  
  
But now... to find out that she might not have been all right after all. That Rutland might not have treated her well. God! He raked his hands through his hair. What more could he have done to protect her? What more could he possibly have done?  
  
***  
  
Halfway back to the house, it finally hit Joan what the commander had said. She reminded him of his ex-wife. She stopped dead in the road. Only after a car had driven by with a honk did she gather her scattered thoughts and continue on down the road. But her mind kept repeating, Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.  
  
She made herself a strong cup of tea when she got back, adding lots of sugar to make it bearable to drink. She was so spoiled with working on Moonbase and having prepackaged food and drinks that she had never gotten the hang of making a decent cup of tea when she was Earthside. She grimaced as she downed the tea, but it helped her mind begin functioning again. Wow. How was she ever going to look him in the eye again? She reminded him of his ex-wife. The woman he had loved enough to marry. The woman he obviously still thought a great deal of even though they were divorced.  
  
Wow. She caught her reflection in the mirrored back of the china cabinet in the dining room as she passed. She was grinning like a fool. She lifted a brow at her reflection, wondering cockily what Gay or Nina would make of his statement? But she knew she'd never tell them.  
  
Upstairs, she fished her small tools out of the drawer where she'd hidden them and approached the locked room at the end of the hall. For a moment as she felt the lock give, she had a sudden image of dead bodies, mummified over the passage of time, waiting for her to come and find them. Then she blinked, and slowly opened the door.  
  
It wasn't an office. Her first disappointment gave way to a sense of intrusion. This was someone's bedroom. She looked around the room in growing wonder. Here were all the pictures! Over practically every inch of the wall were photographs. She wandered around the room examining them. They were all of a young boy, from infancy to about eight years old. Thin and gangly, he nonetheless had an adorable smile. As well as enormous blue eyes. Joan sank onto the bed as she stared at the 8x10" school picture on the dresser. Blonde hair, lean face, strong chin. He was Straker's son, she'd bet her life on it. Why hadn't the commander mentioned a son?  
  
And where was he now? she wondered. Off at boarding school? She got up and went to the wardrobe to check. But it was full of clothes, all neatly hung. Not a fold out of place. The sensation of being suspended in time crept over her again, and she shook it off, looking around her more closely. The neatness of the room, the small toy airplanes laid out on the dresser top, the soccerball in the corner, the dark blue Air Force hat hung on the bedpost, the wardrobe full of clothes, the pictures on the wall. She swallowed painfully.  
  
This wasn't a bedroom, she realized. This was a shrine. As she sank back onto the bed, she looked over the photos again. There weren't any photos past the age he was in the 8x10" on the dresser. My God, no wonder the commander hadn't mentioned him! Whoever this boy was, he wasn't alive any more. Joan drew a breath, trying to shake herself from the certainty. She could be wrong. Surely it was just the stillness of the house and the fact that Mary kept the room locked that was making her imagine all sorts of things that weren't true! Surely that smiling boy in the photograph wasn't dead?  
  
She glimpsed something at the edge of her vision and looked toward the far corner of the room. Propped against the wall was the remains of a large model sailing ship. Its masts were broken in several places and its hull was a wreck, but she could still tell that it had once been a fine ship. As she stared at it, her eyes filled up with tears. She didn't know why, and she didn't care, but it was so odd seeing it in such a tidy room that it unnerved her. She took a deep breath and stood up. She had to get out of this room!  
  
Suddenly she leaned forward and looked closer at the picture just to the left of the mirror on the dresser. Her breath caught. It was Mary. Mary and the boy. He was probably only about two or three in the shot, but it was Mary that she noticed most. She was laughing, her head tossed back and her eyes twinkling up at whoever was taking the picture. It was hard to reconcile this lively woman with the withdrawn mouse Joan had met yesterday. The commander had been right. Mary really had changed.  
  
Joan glanced around the room once more. Of course. The death of a beloved son would be bound to change anyone. Oh Mary, she thought sadly. I'm so sorry.  
  
As she turned back to the small photo, she noticed its twin on the other side of the mirror. Was that...? Oh, my God! She stared in shock at the photograph, her mind too numb to accept what she saw. It was the commander. And the boy. Same outfit, same age, same lighting. This photo had probably been taken just after the other one. It was slightly off- center, and Joan made a mental note to help Mary correct that problem. But it wasn't the quality of the picture that shocked her. It was the sight of her stern commander laughing into the camera, his eyes impossibly soft as they gazed at the photographer. Who was this man? Joan would have sworn she'd never met him.  
  
Yet Mary had known him. She stared at the photo for a long time, then quietly left the bedroom and reset the lock.  
  
***  
  
Joan ventured downstairs late that evening after working on the pictures she'd taken during the day. She had developed some good shots of a nearby meadow that she liked and was feeling a little bit more sure of herself. She had found it difficult to meet Mary's eyes at supper, and had realized belatedly how hard it truly was to spy on someone. Especially someone you liked.  
  
Work had steadied her, and now work was what she needed to get back to doing. Work on finding out what was going on inside her hostess' head. She saw Mary in one of the armchairs reading as she entered the living room, a small fire going in the fireplace. Joan held up her own novel with a grin and sat in the opposite chair. "Time for relaxing," she said.  
  
Mary smiled at her. "How did your pictures turn out?"  
  
"Great. There's just so much texture to the scenery around here. It makes it easy to take good shots. I'll show them to you sometime, if you like."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The room was silent for a while as they both read their books. Eventually, Joan smothered a giggle and put down her paperback novel. Mary looked over at her inquiringly. Joan just shook her head and gestured to Mary's hardbound book. "What are you reading?"  
  
Mary showed her the cover. "It's a travelogue on Athens."  
  
Joan was intrigued. "Really? Have you ever been there?"  
  
"No," Mary sighed softly.  
  
"Planning on a trip there?"  
  
She shook her head with a grimace. "I just like to read about places. I've never really gone anywhere, and I've always wondered what it would be like."  
  
"Oh. I see," Joan said. "How many places have you read about?"  
  
Mary's smile was wry. "Dozens. What are you reading? Something funny?"  
  
Joan chuckled. "Sort of. It's a romance. What my mother always referred to as a smut novel."  
  
Mary blinked at her. "Is it good?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Lots of adventure, mystery, sex scenes."  
  
Mary leaned closer to see the cover. A scantily clad woman was clinging for dear life onto the chest of an even more scantily clad man while fire raged in the background. "Is it humorous?"  
  
Joan grinned. "If they're done right. These books follow a fairly predictable pattern. They usually start with them hating each other on sight, then they end up in bed or wherever about halfway through, and pledge their undying love by the final page."  
  
"Where's the humor?"  
  
"In the dialogue, mostly," Joan explained. "Although this story is something else. See, depending on the author, sometimes you can run across some really bizarre sex scenes." At Mary's blank look, she said, "Like on the back of a galloping horse, or in a speeding Ferrari." She shrugged cheekily. "My favorites are the shower stall scenes. Very steamy, if you get my drift."  
  
Mary chuckled in spite of herself. "In other words, not very believable."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Then why read them?"  
  
Joan grinned. "Because they're a hoot. Look at this one, for instance. They're making love on the stairs. I ask you, the stairs? I mean, really! Wouldn't that be just a bit painful? Not to mention the bruises you'd find later. It cracks me up."  
  
Mary got quiet for a moment, then said hesitantly, "Actually, you don't really notice any discomfort at the time. Or bruises."  
  
Joan looked at her in shock. "Mary! You haven't!"  
  
Her hostess turned faintly pink. "Sometimes you just don't make it all the way upstairs to the bedroom," she explained apologetically. "Not these stairs," she added dismissively with a wave in their direction.  
  
Joan giggled, trying--- and failing--- to imagine Mary that abandoned. "Mary! You've been holding out on me! Tell me the truth now. Philip was a stud."  
  
"Philip?" Mary bit her lip to hold in a giggle of her own. "Oh, no! Philip would never have dreamed...! Oh, my!"  
  
Joan caught her breath. "Your first husband?"  
  
Mary had her hand over her mouth to hold in her mirth, but her eyes twinkled wickedly as she nodded.  
  
Joan turned to look in disbelief at the stairs she had come down earlier, obviously trying to picture it. "No way."  
  
"I told you," Mary said on a gurgling laugh. "Not those stairs. The stairs at the old house."  
  
"Mary!" Joan breathed, still trying to imagine it. "He was hot?"  
  
"He was..." Mary lost her smile and looked suddenly pensive. "...very believable."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Mary fingered the corner of her book, her head bent. "My first husband was... very handsome. Dashing. Brave. I used to wonder what on earth made him even look twice at me. I was so in love, it was sickening." She met Joan's eyes and held them. "Then I learned the truth. Fairy tales are just for children, and it was time to grow up."  
  
"What truth, Mary?" Joan asked, suddenly certain that she was hearing things that Mary had never shared with anyone before.  
  
Mary stared into the fire, her mouth grim. "That I wasn't the only one, of course. That there were others. That none of it was real. Just like in his movies. It was all an act. And foolish little Mary believed it all. Happily ever after." She uttered a harsh laugh that contained no humor whatsoever and stood up, tossing her book onto the chair. "Real life doesn't give you happily ever after's."  
  
Joan sat in the chair for a long time after Mary had left the room, fighting tears. No! Not Straker! There must be some mistake! He wouldn't... oh, surely he wouldn't! He was a hard man, Joan knew. But he wasn't hardhearted, selfish like some of the men around SHADO. Col. Foster, who thought only of his own pleasure. Or Col. Freeman, who was a complete rake. The commander was a man of honor. He was--- he was!  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
"Come in, Joan."  
  
Lt. Harrington entered the inn's parlor and took a seat near the window. The commander noticed her solemn expression as he sat down, and mentally braced himself for whatever lay ahead. "Were you able to get into the locked room?" he asked, refusing to delay the inevitable.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
She didn't look at him, and his heart gave a lurch. What had she found? "Was her computer there?"  
  
"No." Joan looked up and valiantly met his eyes. "It wasn't an office. It was a bedroom."  
  
He was briefly confused. "Another lodger's?"  
  
She shook her head, swallowing. "A boy's."  
  
Straker's head jerked slightly, as if he had taken a blow to the jaw. He was silent for several moments, then he said, "I see."  
  
Joan asked softly, "Is he dead?"  
  
A muscle moved in the commander's jaw and was stilled. "Yes."  
  
She gripped her hands in her lap, staring down at them unseeingly. In her mind, she was remembering the boy's adorable smile. "I'm sorry, sir."  
  
He lifted a shaky hand to stop her, then ran it over his eyes in a weary gesture. He couldn't remember when the last time was that he had slept. He knew he was in no shape to deal with this particular ghost from his past. But she would be bound to have questions. He took a deep breath. "My son. John. He... he died two years ago. I'm afraid that it never occurred to me that she would... that the room might be his."  
  
"That's alright, sir."  
  
He met her eyes hesitantly. "Did you ask her about it?"  
  
Joan shook her head. "No. I realized that it had nothing to do with what she might have been looking for in your records. And I didn't want to pry."  
  
He relaxed slightly. "Did you check in her bedroom for the computer?"  
  
"No, sir. I... it just seemed like the wrong time."  
  
He gave a small nod of understanding, and the parlor became quiet once more. Eventually, he asked, "Was that all, Lieutenant?"  
  
She wanted to tell him about the pictures all over John's bedroom, and ask him why none of them had included his stepfather. She wanted to ask him about the two small photos by the mirror and the broken ship in the corner. She wanted to ask him why he had cheated on a woman who had obviously loved him with all her heart. "She mentioned you again last night, sir."  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
Joan looked him in the eye. "Did you divorce her, sir? Or did she divorce you?"  
  
His eyes slid away from hers and stared at the sunlight beyond the window. He had dreaded this moment, knowing that sooner or later the questions would turn intimately personal. "The divorce was her idea."  
  
"Did she tell you her reason?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was it true?"  
  
He looked at her in shock. She stared stonily back, her delicate face harder than he had ever seen it. "What did she say, Lieutenant?"  
  
"She said that she was a fool to have ever believed that you loved her. She said that she was only one of many women in your life."  
  
"There were no other women!"  
  
Joan recoiled as he jumped up and began furiously pacing the room. His hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily as he strode about, and Joan was completely unnerved. She had never seen him lose control, hadn't known he could. "Commander?"  
  
He stopped, closed his eyes, and clenched his fists until they were bone white. After a few moments standing quite still that way, he gave a deep sigh and returned to his chair. He seemed to have aged suddenly, and his eyes looked hollowed out. Joan returned her gaze to her hands, unable to bear his expression. "Her mother... didn't like it that I sometimes came home very late. She hired a detective to follow me. You have to understand, Joan, that HQ was just being built. Wires were everywhere; equipment was in pieces. There was nowhere to work with the recruits, nowhere to plan things out. So we all met in the staff's apartments, never the same place twice. Some of those sessions lasted into the wee hours. A few lasted all night." He rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes. "The detective saw me going into an apartment building with a woman and not leaving until the following morning."  
  
Joan gasped. "What did you tell her?"  
  
Straker's lips tightened, remembering all too well Mary's hysterical accusations, his own panic. "I almost told her everything. I couldn't let her believe...! But I didn't get the chance. And later... later I realized that to tell her would be to hand her over to security. And I couldn't do that."  
  
"They'd have killed her," Joan realized.  
  
He swallowed painfully. "Yes."  
  
"And the other times?" she asked him.  
  
Straker closed his eyes wearily. "I only know of one other time. John was five and getting ready to start school. Mary was worried about letting him go, and I... I was busy training staff for Moonbase." He made an odd grimace. "I came home one day to find them gone. There was a packet of photographs from a detective on the table, along with the divorce papers. I didn't contest it."  
  
"But you were innocent!"  
  
He smiled sadly. "How could I prove it? I'm sorry, your Honor, but I'm really the head of a secret global organisation and the woman in this photograph just works for me. That would have been believable, don't you think?"  
  
"But it's wrong!" Joan wrung her hands. "What Mary believes about you is wrong!"  
  
"How would you make it right?" he asked quietly.  
  
She looked at him, remembering the pain and disillusionment that she'd seen in Mary's eyes last night. Seeing the deep despair in his eyes today. "It's not fair," she whispered.  
  
He leaned forward, laying a calming hand on her restless ones. "Life isn't, most of the time, Lieutenant. Listen to me. You've done an incredible job so far. She's opened up to you. She trusts you. Now I need you to find out why she accessed my records. What she's looking for. And, Joan. You've got to stop her. Say whatever you have to, do whatever it takes. But get her to leave it alone. Do you understand? Do you grasp now just how much danger she's in?"  
  
Joan nodded miserably.  
  
***  
  
When Joan returned to the house late that afternoon, it was to find Mary already home. "Hi!" she said as she set her backpack on the kitchen table.  
  
"Hello." Mary looked a little flustered, and Joan wondered what was up. She didn't have long to wait, however. Mary said, "I left work early, because I had something to pick up from the shop. Would you like to see it?"  
  
"Sure." Joan followed her into the living room, where Mary pointed to a picture above the mantle. It was a beautifully matted and framed photograph, the one that Joan had given her of the mansion in the fog. "Mary!" she exclaimed. "It looks wonderful!"  
  
Mary blushed. "Much better than those old flowers, don't you think?" She waved a hand disparagingly at the still-life painting that she had removed from the mantle and set against the wall.  
  
Joan grinned. "Didn't you like it?"  
  
"I hated it," Mary confessed, but explained at Joan's inquiring look. "It was my mother's. Philip always admired it whenever we would visit, so my mother left it to him in her will." She turned back to the framed photograph and sighed. "This is much better."  
  
Joan shook her head at her. "Why didn't you just tell him you hated it?"  
  
Mary looked at her in surprise. "I don't know. He liked it."  
  
"Yeah, but it's your living room too," Joan pointed out. "Would he have been mad at you?"  
  
"Oh, no." Mary shrugged slightly. "Philip would have let me do whatever I wanted. He never made a fuss. It's just that I knew that he liked it. So I didn't say anything."  
  
"Oh." Joan continued to look at her, and Mary finally gave a nervous chuckle.  
  
"What?"  
  
"How long has Philip been gone, Mary?"  
  
Mary had the grace to grimace. "Eight months. Almost a year. I know. I should have taken it down then. But I didn't have anything to replace it with, and I'd gotten used to seeing it there. I can't explain."  
  
Joan smiled. "I understand. What about these other paintings?" She pointed around the room. "Do you hate any of these?"  
  
Mary laughed, sitting down on one of the armchairs and looking around. "No. I don't hate them," she said at last.  
  
"But you don't love them either," Joan said with a firm nod. "Well, we'll just have to give you something else to put up then."  
  
"What?" asked Mary, looking slightly alarmed.  
  
Joan grinned. "Your photographs."  
  
"Mine?"  
  
"Sure. The ones you take. Come on, let's break out the cameras. There's plenty of light left. I'll bet we get some really good shots."  
  
"Oh, my!" Mary said faintly, not at all certain that she was ready to tackle this situation. "Now?"  
  
But she obediently followed Joan upstairs to get the cameras.  
  
***  
  
They spent a hilarious evening taking pictures. Mary's nervousness with the camera quickly gave way to a keen interest. When it got too dark to work outside, they switched to flash work and took turns posing for each other. The living room gave them their best opportunities.  
  
"You know," Joan said after glaring at the dining room table. She had given up on trying to get the lighting right in that room. "That room is so dark."  
  
Mary shrugged. "Actually, it can be rather cozy when the chandelier is lit and candles are set out. But you're right. It needs more light."  
  
Joan lifted a brow at her. "Then why don't you ever open the drapes?"  
  
"Oh, I couldn't!"  
  
She sounded so shocked that Joan chuckled. "Philip would fuss?"  
  
Mary smiled. "No, of course not. But that table was in his family for years and years. Too much sun isn't good for the wood."  
  
"Mary," Joan said patiently. "Have you ever thought of a tablecloth?"  
  
Mary bit her lip, fighting the urge to giggle. "No. But it sounds like a good idea. We'll have to try it. I'm glad you're here, Joan," she said unexpectedly. "You make me see things that I never thought of before."  
  
Joan said, "According to my mother, I'm the pest of all pests. I'll try not to lead you too badly astray, Mary."  
  
Mary shook her head with a small smile. "I don't think you're a pest. You've been very helpful."  
  
Later, when they were working in the darkroom with the emulsion, Joan brought the topic around to Straker. "Mary, you said yesterday that your first husband was in the movies. Is he an actor?"  
  
"He's a producer," Mary said, keeping track of her time on the small clock on the table. "But he's done some acting."  
  
"Really? Is he famous?"  
  
"I suppose so."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Ed Straker."  
  
"No way."  
  
Mary looked at her in surprise.  
  
"Mary, you were married to him?"  
  
She grinned. "I know. Sometimes I find it hard to believe myself. Maybe I dreamed it."  
  
Joan laughed. "He's a hunk!"  
  
"Hmmm." Mary's eyelids lowered to conceal her thoughts, but her secretive smile gave them away.  
  
"Do you ever see him?" Joan asked her.  
  
Mary's face froze. "No," she said abruptly. "And I haven't watched his movies either."  
  
Joan rinsed her hands. "Why not?"  
  
Mary removed the photos from the emulsion carefully, as if it were a matter of life and death. "Because I would be so humiliated if he said the same things to those women on the screen that he once said to me."  
  
"Mary."  
  
She shrugged it off and held up a finished photograph. "What do you think?"  
  
***  
  
"Do you ever have to watch your weight?" Mary asked her the next morning as Joan took a second helping of eggs.  
  
Joan grinned at her. "No. I don't usually eat this much. It's a good thing I'm on my feet all day, or I'd be gaining like crazy. I've never tasted food this good before."  
  
Mary blushed. "I'm glad you like it. I wanted to tell you that there's pasta leftover from the other night that you can warm up for supper. I'll be late. There's a big dinner meeting tonight."  
  
"That's fine," Joan said. "What kind of work do you do, Mary?"  
  
"Oh. Well," Mary replied. She wasn't used to talking about herself, and she felt as though she hadn't stopped talking since Joan arrived. But she wasn't sorry. She'd surprised herself with some of the things that had come out of her mouth in the past few days. She hadn't known they were inside her. "I'm an accountant for the firm of Bosley and Newman."  
  
"Wait a minute," Joan interrupted. "The Bosley and Newman? The big shots that handled the Pembrook deal?"  
  
Mary smiled. "You've heard of us."  
  
"Not until Pembrook," Joan answered. "Wow. That had to have been a legal nightmare."  
  
"It could have been," Mary said with a small smile. "But we're good."  
  
Joan laughed. She had wondered if there was anything Mary felt confident doing. Now she knew. "You like accounting?"  
  
"Yes. I've been told that I have a head for figures."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Says who?" Joan asked playfully.  
  
Mary gave her a sly smile and got up to start the dishes. "My first husband."  
  
"Well!" Joan finished up her eggs and got up to help with the dishes. "I wonder if he tells that to all the girls?"  
  
Mary looked at her in surprise. Joan winked back, and Mary relaxed into a grin. "He relied on me to keep our family accounts straight. He said I was amazing."  
  
Joan wondered if anyone else had ever told Mary that she was amazing at anything. "Did you have a degree in it?"  
  
"Not then. I went back to school after... after Philip and I got married. The house was so empty with John at school, and I was driving myself crazy with nothing to do."  
  
"Did he approve?"  
  
"Philip?" Mary made an odd grimace. "Well, he didn't disapprove. But I don't think he understood why I was doing it."  
  
"Why were you?" Joan asked quietly as she put away the dishes.  
  
Mary sighed and looked out the window above the sink. "I wanted something that no one could take away from me," she said finally.  
  
Joan swallowed and said in a determinedly cheerful tone, "And now you have it."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So, do you have your own office?"  
  
Mary grinned. "You should see my office!"  
  
Joan's pixie brows rose. "Oh, yeah?"  
  
"I just got a promotion last week," Mary explained. "The big one that I've been working for all this time. I'm one of the senior executives now."  
  
"One of the big boys, Mary?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"All right, girl!" Joan put down the towel and vigorously shook Mary's hand. "Way to go! What did you do to celebrate?"  
  
"Oh, they had a party for us, the ones who got promotions. It was nice."  
  
"No, no!" Joan said. "What did you do?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Joan rolled her eyes. "You know, did you go out to a fancy restaurant? Get a facial? Buy a new dress? What did you do?"  
  
"Well... nothing," Mary admitted.  
  
Joan looked at her for a long moment in silence. Then she said, "Well, that's the stupidest thing I've heard! You got the promotion of a lifetime, and you didn't celebrate? Why ever not, Mary? I'd have been dancing in the streets!"  
  
Mary considered. "I guess, because it didn't seem like that much of an accomplishment after the fact."  
  
"Oh, Mary!"  
  
"It's all right, Joan." Mary dried her hands and picked up her briefcase. "Maybe I can take you in to see my office sometime. Would you like that?"  
  
"Immensely," answered Joan immediately. "And we'll take a few pictures of the great Mary Rutland, female executive, while we're there."  
  
"Oh!" Mary said, shaking her head. But she was smiling as she went out to her car.  
  
***  
  
"Well, Lieutenant?"  
  
"I know why she's been digging."  
  
Straker sat forward in the chair. "That's wonderful news!"  
  
Joan shook her head. "I still don't know what she's looking for, but I think I've figured out why she's looking."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She met his eyes, wondering how her conclusions would affect him. He looked exhausted. And she had to fight the urge to tell him to just grab Mary and run. To hell with SHADO, to hell with security! She couldn't see a decent end to this scenario anywhere, and she realized from the misery in his eyes that he couldn't either. It hurt to think of it, so instead she concentrated on explaining what she'd learned. "Mary has no purpose."  
  
He sat back in the chair and said nothing, but he was watching her closely.  
  
Joan shrugged. "Everyone who ever cared about her is gone. Her parents, Philip, her son. There's no one left to give her a reason to go on. She has her career, and in fact, just got the promotion she was wanting. But it doesn't mean anything, because there's no one to share it with her. No one to care about what she's accomplished."  
  
"You're certain of this?"  
  
She nodded. "She got her promotion last week. When was the first flag raised with your military records?"  
  
"Last week." He frowned into space for a while. Then he looked at her. "Why me?"  
  
Joan sighed. "You're the only one left. The only person she ever cared about who might possibly give a damn whether she lives or dies."  
  
He ran a hand over his eyes. "Then why doesn't she just call me? Write a letter? There are so many ways she could contact me if she wanted to, Joan. Why hasn't she?"  
  
"Because she isn't sure."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"If you ever really cared about her."  
  
He looked stricken for a moment, then turned away, blinking rapidly. Joan remained silent, hating being caught in the middle of this tangle and wishing with all her heart that it would just end, one way or the other, so that she could return to her normal life. But she was afraid that her life was never going to be normal again. After several moments, he said, "I see. Then what is she looking for?"  
  
"I don't know, sir. But I know that it has to do with your marriage. I think she's trying to find something that she can believe in, something about your relationship that she can look at and say, This was real."  
  
"Can you dissuade her?"  
  
Joan rifled a hand through her curls. "I'm not sure I should. I don't know what it would do to her to let it go now."  
  
"Lieutenant," he snapped hoarsely. "We both know what security will do to her if she continues digging into my records. There are two options: unknown pain with us or certain death with them. I won't... I can't... let SHADO take her from me! Don't you see?"  
  
"Yes. But if you'll pardon me for saying so, sir, you don't have her now."  
  
"True," he said, closing his eyes in a defeated gesture. "But at least she's alive. Please, Lieutenant. Help me to keep her that way."  
  
She met his eyes and could not deny him, even when her heart rebelled against what he was asking her to do. "Yes, sir."  
  
***  
  
Joan stood in the doorway of her sunlit bedroom for a long time that afternoon, staring at the door opposite. Finally, she shrugged and walked over to try the knob. It opened easily, and she entered her hostess' bedroom.  
  
Like everywhere else in the house but her son's room, this room had no photographs. The walls boasted a few watercolor prints, but nothing very memorable. Merely pretty. And after the evening she had spent working with her, Joan knew that Mary had a better eye than that. It baffled her that Mary refused to surround herself with the beauty that she saw in her own mind. What was she hiding from?  
  
She shook her head and went over to the computer on the desk in the corner. She checked through the files and the history carefully, but came up with nothing. Commander Straker had told her that his records had been accessed from Mary's office computer, but they had hoped that a scan of her home computer would give them a clue what she was up to. But there were only partial reports and accounting information in this system. Nothing that would help them at all. Joan got up and turned everything off.  
  
As she went to leave the room, she noticed the bedspread on the large fourposter bed. It had caught at her mind when she first entered the room, but she'd been distracted by the prints and forgotten it. But now she eyed it consideringly. There was nothing particularly unusual about it. It was a solid blue spread made of silk, no longer new, but faded slightly with time and washings. But the color was the exact shade of Commander Straker eyes. Joan's lips twitched slightly as she wondered how Philip had felt about sleeping under that spread?  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Mary showed her how to make an omelette. Joan's efforts wasted over a carton of eggs and a quantity of ham, but eventually she ended up with an omelette that was edible. She offered it to her hostess, but Mary insisted on splitting it with her as a reward for work well done. Joan was surprised how good it tasted.  
  
She helped Mary with the dusting, then brought down their photos from the other night. Mary was astonished that so many of hers had turned out well. But she was more surprised by the photos Joan had taken of her.  
  
"That's not me!" she exclaimed at one shot of her reclining against the trunk of a tree.  
  
Joan grinned. "Who else could it be?" She was very happy with that photograph. She had caught Mary just after a posed shot, where she'd been smiling into the camera lens. In this shot, she was looking off toward the house, a pensive expression on her face. Joan thought it showed Mary's ethereal quality perfectly.  
  
"But I look..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Mary gave a nervous laugh. "Beautiful," she said in wonder.  
  
Joan bit back her instinctive response and said instead, "Mary, why should that surprise you? You are beautiful."  
  
Mary only shook her head. But Joan noticed that she kept that picture.  
  
***  
  
When Mary returned from her shopping late that afternoon, she found the dining room table set with her best china. The chandelier was glowing, as well as several candles along the length of the glossy table. She set her bags down by the door and stared. When Joan emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, Mary asked, "What is it? What's going on?"  
  
Joan grinned at her. "It's a celebration."  
  
"Oh? What for?"  
  
She looked so bewildered that Joan had to bite back a chuckle. As she set the champagne down in its holder, she said, "For you, Mary. For your promotion."  
  
"Oh!" It was all Mary could do to keep from bursting into tears. "But I..."  
  
Joan took her hand and led her to a chair at the table. "Now, don't worry about a thing. And don't panic. I didn't cook. I got a caterer to do all the work. Wait right here." And she went back into the kitchen for the food.  
  
By Mary's second glass of the bubbly champagne, she was relaxed. She couldn't remember a time when she'd enjoyed eating at this table more. How lucky she'd been to meet someone like Joan! She couldn't remember when the last time was that she'd giggled and laughed and felt so lighthearted. She couldn't remember a time when she'd had a friend to laugh with. Oh, how glad she was that she hadn't listened to her mother's voice in her head! See what she would have missed?  
  
They left the dishes at the table and retired to the living room with their champagne. It felt remarkably decadent to leave the dishes undone, and Mary was thrilled with the sensation. She gazed up at the wonderful photograph of the house in the fog hanging above the mantle and sighed gustily. "You're going to be very famous one of these days," she told Joan.  
  
Joan's eyes twinkled at her from the other armchair. "Oh, yeah?"  
  
Mary nodded firmly, as if that settled it. "Your pictures have that special something about them that will attract buyers like crazy."  
  
"What's that?" Joan asked, intrigued.  
  
"You have the ability to make reality into fantasy."  
  
Joan sat up in surprise. "What?"  
  
Mary looked at her. "Weren't you aware of it?"  
  
That pixie face was solemn as she shook her head.  
  
Mary sat back with a sigh. "It's true, you know. I noticed it that first night. Most people would come across that hill and just see a stone house. But you saw a fairy castle rising out of the mist. You're very gifted. It rather reminds me of the way I used to think when I was younger. That life was an adventure, full of mystery and excitement around every corner. That magic was an everyday occurrence. That fairy tales could come true."  
  
"And you don't believe that way any longer?" Joan asked quietly.  
  
"No. How could I?" Mary downed her glass recklessly and poured another. "Reality is a dismal place. And no amount of wishing will make a fantasy be real."  
  
Joan said nothing, but there was much she wished she could say.  
  
After a moment, Mary continued. "Like that picture you took of me. Making me look beautiful. I'm not, you know. Oh, I've had my moments when I considered myself fairly pretty. But I could never be beautiful like those women in the movies."  
  
"Mary," Joan said fiercely. "They're not beautiful either without makeup and special lighting. They're not the reality. You are. Beauty that goes beyond the outside and all the way to the soul. They should be so lucky to ever be as beautiful as you are."  
  
But Mary was shaking her head, tears springing into her eyes. "Then why, Joan? Why did he go to them? It was me, don't you see? I wasn't good enough." She got up from the chair, furiously brushing at her tears. But they kept coming. "It shouldn't have mattered. I shouldn't have let it matter! We might still be married if I had just ignored it. I know some women do. Why couldn't I? Why did I have to be so difficult? So... so... contrary!" And with a sob, she ran from the room.  
  
***  
  
Joan found her in her room, crying as if a dam had finally burst wide open. She didn't want to interrupt, but she could only bear it for so long. "Mary," she said from the doorway.  
  
Mary sat up on the bed, trying to pull herself back together. "I'm sorry, Joan," she said as she wiped her cheeks. "Too much champagne, I guess."  
  
"Don't!" Joan came into the room and sat next to her. "You have every right to cry." Cry for all of us, she added silently. "Mary, are you sure about those women?"  
  
Mary looked at her in surprise. "Yes."  
  
Joan sighed, wondering how much she could get away with saying. "It's just that... Mary, he doesn't act like a philanderer. There are always signs, you know."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, he hasn't remarried. At least, as far as the press knows, he hasn't."  
  
Mary shook her head. "No, he hasn't."  
  
"And he's never seen with a woman unless it's at the premiere of one of his movies, and even then, it's just the star, not a girlfriend."  
  
"I wouldn't know," Mary said softly, and Joan realized that she deliberately stayed away from any news concerning him.  
  
"Mary, that's not the way a man like that acts! Trust me, I know. They always have some woman around them and end up changing them as often as they change their suit. And even the ones with a little decency aren't seen alone very often. But I've never seen or read of Ed Straker being with any woman. None, Mary. Not once."  
  
Mary looked at her in bewilderment. "But... I have proof!"  
  
"What proof, Mary?"  
  
She got up and dug a box out from far under the bed. Joan watched as she leafed through several photographs (Joan noticed that her wedding pictures from her second marriage were among them) until she reached the bottom. Here she drew out two large manila envelopes. She sat looking at them for a moment, then brought them to where Joan sat. Grimly she opened the envelopes and extracted a large black and white photograph from each of them. These she handed to Joan without a word.  
  
Joan looked at them carefully, laying them on the bedspread to see them clearly. In one of the photos, the commander had his hand on Nina's arm as they entered a large building. Joan had never known Nina back when she still had long hair, but she was easily recognizable nonetheless. In the other photo, he was helping Gay out of a car. Behind them stood another tall building. Nina and Gay. No wonder he had chosen her for this assignment.  
  
"Mary, these photos tell you nothing," she said quietly.  
  
"But look at them!" Mary said in desperation. "See how beautiful they are? How sure of themselves?"  
  
Joan's lips tightened. "Do you have any wedding photos, Mary? Of you and Ed?"  
  
Mary stared at her. "Yes."  
  
"Show me."  
  
She got up again and fished a photo album out of the bottom of her lingerie drawer in her dresser. She looked at Joan curiously as she handed it to her, obviously wondering what she would say next.  
  
Joan closed her eyes, swallowed convulsively, then opened the album. "Look, Mary," she said after a few pages. "Is this how he looks when he's in love?"  
  
Mary stared at the photograph in question. It was supposed to have been a posed shot of the two of them looking outward from the altar with a smile. But Ed had taken her hand and kissed it, gazing into her eyes with an expression that had made her knees go weak. Still did, if she was honest. "Yes," she whispered.  
  
Joan snapped the album shut and tossed it on the bed. "Look at these," she demanded, waving the incriminating photographs. "Does he look like that in any of these?"  
  
Mary met her eyes in shock. The sweet young girl she knew was gone, replaced by this hard woman with fierce eyes. Joan stared back at her grimly, and eventually Mary looked down at the pictures from the detectives. Her eyes widened as she noticed for the first time how Ed had looked in the photos. He looked like... he looked like he always did. At work. "I don't... I don't understand." She grabbed the manila envelopes and upended them on the bed, frantically fishing through them for the other photographs. She leafed through them quickly, checking his expression, feeling like an idiot for having missed this for so long. They were all the same. Same expression, same stance, same casual courtesy. Her mind raced furiously. Ed, she thought despairingly. Ed, what were you doing?  
  
Finally she looked up at Joan. "Why didn't I see this before?"  
  
Joan sighed. "Probably because you were too busy comparing yourself unfavorably with those women to notice."  
  
"But... why?" Mary put a hand to her head in an effort to sort out her jumbled thoughts. "Why didn't he defend himself? Why didn't he tell me the truth? I would have believed him. I wanted so badly to believe him. Surely he knew that?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Mary suddenly looked struck. "I do," she said slowly. "Yes. I think I finally do understand." He'd been working, she realized. And he hadn't told her about it, because he couldn't have her asking questions. Military Intelligence was always on a need to know basis. And Mary as a civilian would never have been allowed to know what he was doing. It fit, right along with the retirement that wasn't in his military file. And the odd change of employment that obviously wasn't at all. He hadn't left the military. He was still on active duty. Whatever he was doing at that studio was so completely classified that he had let his wife divorce him rather than tell her the truth. Oh, God!  
  
Suddenly she stood up, her face going white.  
  
"Mary?" asked Joan in concern.  
  
The eyes that turned to her were tormented. "Important!" Mary whispered intensely. "He told me that the medicine was delayed because something important had come up. And I railed at him for it." She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, God! Why didn't I see? How could I be so stupid?"  
  
"What medicine?"  
  
But Mary only shook her head, suddenly bone weary. "What have I done to him? What have I done? How could he ever forgive me? How can I ever face him?"  
  
"Mary, what are you talking about?" Joan asked.  
  
Mary firmed her lips and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry, Joan, but it's military business, and they don't take very kindly to civilians horning in on their operations."  
  
"Military?" Joan was surprised. And worried. What had Mary figured out? "Are you sure?"  
  
Mary shook her head. "No. Not entirely. It's almost too bizarre to believe. But I'll know... I'll know if I see him again."  
  
"How will you know, Mary?"  
  
Mary gave a secret smile. "I'll know."  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
Straker was with Alec Freeman in his studio office the following morning going over their options concerning the recalcitrant actress when his secretary buzzed his intercom. "Yes, Miss Ealand?" he asked.  
  
"There's someone to see you, sir," she answered coolly. "I'm afraid she doesn't have an appointment."  
  
"Can it wait, Miss Ealand? I'm rather busy at the moment."  
  
"She says she'll only take a few minutes of your time, sir. She says her name is Mary."  
  
Straker gasped and looked swiftly at Alec, who was looking as surprised as the commander felt. And as worried. He told his secretary, "Send her in, Miss Ealand."  
  
He stood as the door opened and Mary entered. She looked impossibly lovely in a smart coral suit, and she'd done something with her hair since he'd last seen her. It was shorter and swung sassily along her jawline as she walked. And she was wearing heels. The last time he'd seen her in heels had been at their wedding.  
  
"Hello, Ed," she said with a hesitant smile.  
  
He swallowed. "Mary," he said huskily. He looked around as Alec stood up. "You remember Alec, of course?"  
  
She gave Alec a smile as well. "Hello, Alec."  
  
"Mary," Freeman replied with a nod, trying not to look as though the world was coming to an end. He turned to his friend. "Well, Ed. What do I tell Bernhardt's solicitors?"  
  
Straker gratefully accepted the lifeline thrown to him. "Tell them that if she's not back to work in a week, she'll be sued for breach of contract."  
  
Alec grunted. "And if she doesn't show up?"  
  
"Then we sue. But she won't push it that far, Alec. She's vicious, but she's not stupid."  
  
"Right." Freeman glanced at Mary, sighed heavily, and headed out of the office.  
  
"Won't you sit down?" Straker asked as he hit the button to close his office door.  
  
"Thank you. I won't keep you long. I'm sure you're quite busy," she said.  
  
He brushed that away with a lean hand as he took his seat. "Not at all. It's nothing. What can I do for you, Mary?"  
  
She set the hatbox that she was carrying on his desk. "I was cleaning and ran across a few things that I thought you might like to have."  
  
"Oh?" He knew very well that nothing of his had remained after the divorce. She'd boxed it all up and even included a damned list, for God's sake. She motioned for him to open the box, and he removed the lid with trepidation. What was she up to?  
  
He lifted out his old Air Force hat. And had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. He looked at her mutely.  
  
Mary gestured with a restless hand. "John... he used to hang it on the post of his bed where he could get at it easily. He would try it on and look in the mirror, pretending to be an Air Force colonel."  
  
He didn't know what to say. He fingered the brim and said quietly, "Thank you."  
  
She stood up, too nervous to sit. "There are your toy airplanes, as well. He took very good care of them. It meant a lot to him to have something from your boyhood to play with."  
  
Straker drew them out of the bottom of the box and was overwhelmed. "Mary, I don't know what to say."  
  
"No, it's all right," she assured him. "He would have wanted you to have them. It's the least I can do. Really. If there's anything else you'd like, please, just ask."  
  
He shook his head. "There's nothing, Mary. Thank you for all of this."  
  
She hesitated, unsure what to say to him. As the silence in the office stretched out, she clutched her purse and said, "I should go. I've taken up enough of your time."  
  
"Wait!" He stood as she turned toward the door. "Mary... how are you?"  
  
She met his eyes for a fleeting moment, then said softly, "I'm doing well, Ed. And you?"  
  
"Fine," he said in a voice he didn't recognize.  
  
She thought he looked exhausted, but she nodded. "I'm glad. You'll take care of yourself?"  
  
"Yes. And you?"  
  
She smiled softly. "Yes, Ed. I'll take care of myself. Good-bye."  
  
"Good-bye, Mary," he said as she left the office.  
  
***  
  
"What did she want?"  
  
The commander ran a hand over his eyes. "To give me some things of John's."  
  
"You're kidding!" Alec slumped in the chair in stunned surprise.  
  
Straker shook his head, toying with one of the small metal planes on his desk.  
  
"What does it mean, Ed?"  
  
"I don't know, Alec. I just don't know." But he thought he did know, and that was what was worrying him. If she had forgiven him for what had happened with John, and these gifts seemed to indicate that possibility, then she knew more than she could safely know without being eliminated. God, what was he going to do?  
  
"Did she say anything?" Alec asked.  
  
"No. Just that she wanted to give me these things of John's. And she asked if I wanted anything else."  
  
"Jesus." Alec eyed his friend closely. "Why the change of heart?"  
  
But the commander only shook his head.  
  
***  
  
"A warning would have been nice."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I had no idea that she was coming to the studio. She said nothing when she left this morning for work."  
  
He ran a weary hand over his eyes. "Do you have any idea what she was trying to do, Lieutenant?"  
  
Joan shook her head, unwilling to voice her suspicions.  
  
"Did anything unusual happen last night?" he asked.  
  
"Well, we celebrated her promotion," Joan said. "And I found out that she gets tipsy on champagne."  
  
Straker looked up with a surprised smile. "Yes, she does," he murmured, remembering their wedding day. "She's not the only one." After a while the smile left his face, and he asked her, "Was there anything else, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Yes," she said hesitantly. "She showed me your wedding photos."  
  
He stared at her in shock. "What? Why?"  
  
She gave a nervous shrug and shifted in her chair. "I really couldn't say, sir."  
  
***  
  
When Joan came across the back field and into the kitchen late that afternoon, Mary was stirring something wonderfully mouthwatering in a pot on the stove. And she was singing.  
  
"Well!" Joan said as she put down her camera bag.  
  
Mary laughed and said, "It's spaghetti, Mary-style."  
  
"And what's Mary-style?" Joan asked with a grin.  
  
"With lots and lots of garlic!"  
  
"Sounds perfect," Joan decided. "You certainly look pleased with yourself. Don't tell me. You took over the firm today."  
  
Mary's eyes twinkled merrily as she laughed. "Even better!"  
  
"Oh, yeah?"  
  
"Yes." Mary came over and gave Joan a quick hug. "He loves me! Oh, Joan! He still loves me!"  
  
"Who? Ed?"  
  
"Yes." Mary waltzed dreamily back over to the stove to stir some more, humming under her breath.  
  
"Mary!" Joan demanded. "You went to see him?"  
  
"Mmmm," Mary murmured happily. "And I knew. Immediately! Oh, Joan. Isn't it wonderful?"  
  
"What did you say to him, Mary?"  
  
"Oh, this and that. Just little things. He looked tired," she said and frowned slightly as she thought about it.  
  
Joan sputtered. "You told him that?"  
  
"No, of course not. But it was all I could do not to offer to give him a back rub," she sighed. "Those always relaxed him and helped him sleep after a long day."  
  
Joan sat down and put her head in her hands. "Mary, Mary! What did you say? What did he say?"  
  
"Oh. Well, he asked how I was. Wasn't that so sweet? And he looked at me as though... as though... Oh, Joan! How could I have ever doubted him?"  
  
"Did you tell him that you knew the truth?" Joan asked in desperation.  
  
"Of course not," Mary said, abruptly serious. "That would have put him in an impossible situation. I have to come up with a way to make it all right. To be able to be with him without upsetting the military code. You know, that studio is so real. I mean, the actors and the people and everything. I almost turned back and didn't see him. It was so believable. But then, I suppose it has to be, doesn't it? Well, I did see him, and now I know for certain."  
  
Joan was holding her breath. "What are you going to do, Mary?"  
  
"I don't know," Mary said with a quick smile. "But I'll think of something. There's bound to be a way, if I look for it hard enough. I want to thank you, Joan."  
  
"For what?" she asked, startled.  
  
"Oh, for making me see things for how they really were. For showing me that reality is not a rejection of fantasy, but sometimes the very essence of fantasy. For giving me back my sense of adventure."  
  
"I did all that?" Joan asked in shock.  
  
"Yes," Mary said with a laugh. "You're like a... like a good fairy or something, sprinkling your fairydust around and making the world beautiful again. I'll never be able to thank you enough, you know."  
  
Joan was flustered. "Mary, I didn't do anything. It was you, coming out of your shell."  
  
"Maybe," Mary conceded, turning off the stove and dishing up the plates. "But I couldn't have done it without your fairydust."  
  
***  
  
Joan took a long drive late that evening and wound up at the studio. She entered the commander's underground HQ office to find both him and Col. Freeman there going over reports. She hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt them.  
  
But Straker looked up just then and motioned her into the office. "Good evening, Lieutenant. I take it that you have news."  
  
"Yes, sir." She glanced at Freeman, then asked, "Should I come back, sir?"  
  
"Not at all," Commander Straker said. "You can give your report to me in front of Alec. He knows most of what is going on anyway."  
  
"All right." She approached the desk. "Sir, Mary knows everything."  
  
He sat back with a sigh and said softly, "Damn it."  
  
"What exactly does she know?" Alec asked her when Straker said no more.  
  
"I'm not sure," Joan said. "She won't tell me much, because she's worried about me getting mixed up in military matters."  
  
"Jesus." Freeman abruptly got up and poured himself a drink from the corner dispenser.  
  
"I knew that something was going on today," Straker said finally. "Did she tell you about coming to the office, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Yes, sir. It was a test."  
  
"What?" Alec asked angrily. "A test of what? Ed's pain tolerance?"  
  
"Alec," the commander said sternly.  
  
The colonel subsided into his chair with a grunt.  
  
"What kind of test, Joan?" Straker asked. "What was she hoping to learn?"  
  
"Whether you still loved her," Joan said quietly.  
  
"Damn the woman!" Col. Freeman muttered to no one in particular.  
  
Joan slanted him a fierce look, then turned to the commander. "I told you that she was trying to find out if any of your marriage had been real. Today she realized the truth. That it had all been real."  
  
"How? How did she put it together, Lieutenant?"  
  
"I'm not sure, sir," she answered. "Something evidently clicked while we were talking, because she suddenly went pale and said that she knew why you hadn't told her anything."  
  
Straker frowned. "What were you discussing?"  
  
Joan swallowed. "The photos from your supposed affairs."  
  
He raised a brow. That tidbit had been left out of her earlier report. "You said you were looking at wedding photos, Lieutenant."  
  
"Those too, sir."  
  
She said no more, and he stared at her for a long moment before saying, "I see. And what was the significance of all this reminiscing?"  
  
Joan met his eyes bravely. "She realized that you weren't in love with them, sir."  
  
Straker ran a hand over his eyes. "Lieutenant, at any time during this discussion, did you try to dissuade her from gaining information?"  
  
She grimaced. "You don't understand."  
  
"I believe I asked you to help me keep her alive, Joan," he said quietly. "In light of what we spoke of, I don't understand why you let her gain knowledge that could only ensure her death."  
  
Joan swallowed again. Nothing was as intimidating as the commander when his voice got soft. "You're a man, sir. To you, it's enough that she's alive. But a woman feels differently about these things."  
  
"Explain."  
  
She looked at him, imploring his understanding. "You said that we were a lot alike. Well, you were right. We are. So I knew that it was worse by far to let her go on thinking the way she did than to give her the truth."  
  
He leaned forward, his face grim. "She'll die, Joan. Do you understand that?"  
  
She nodded, but valiantly continued. "There are worse things than death, sir."  
  
"For God's sake!" Alec muttered scornfully.  
  
Joan rounded on him in a fury. "What would you know of it? What would you know of what any woman thinks? Have you ever spent time talking with one?"  
  
"Lieutenant," Straker said tersely. He waited until she calmed herself, then asked, "What do you believe is worse than death?"  
  
She ran a tired hand through her curls. "If you'd seen her, sir, the day I met her. Withdrawn, closed up, nearly lost within herself. Or heard her when she said she wasn't pretty enough to keep the man she loved." She put her hands on the desk and met his eyes. "I wish you could have seen her today, sir, when I got home. She was laughing and singing and twinkling from top to bottom.  
  
"What good is life if you aren't alive, sir? Why prolong the agony? Face it, Mary hasn't been truly alive in years. I know what she'd choose, sir, because it's what I would choose in her place. I'd rather live one hour like she is now than fifty years the way she was when I met her.  
  
"I want her to live, sir, just like you do. But my definition of living is a little different than yours. I'm sorry."  
  
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. "Very well. So we turn her over to security."  
  
"It's the only option left, Ed," the colonel said.  
  
"Wait! Please!" Joan urged. "Give her a week. It's not as though she'll go blabbing to anyone during that time. She won't even tell me what she's up to. A week shouldn't matter to security one way or the other."  
  
"What are you suggesting, Lieutenant?" Straker asked. "We knew the end of this before we started. A week won't change anything. We'll still be right where we are, having to deal with it."  
  
"But she'll think of something. I know she will, sir."  
  
"Joan..."  
  
"Do you trust her, sir? Do you love her?"  
  
"Stop it, Lieutenant!" Alec demanded.  
  
Joan persisted. "Please. Give her a week. Give her the one thing she wants most of all; the chance to make things right. What can it hurt?"  
  
Straker stared into those imploring eyes for a long time. Then he looked away. "You have a week, Lieutenant."  
  
***  
  
"Just a minute, Lieutenant!"  
  
Joan turned from the elevator to see Col. Freeman coming toward her. "Yes, sir?" she asked coolly.  
  
"What the hell was that all about back there?" he demanded in a furious whisper. "What on earth are you trying to do?"  
  
"Save a woman's life, Col. Freeman," she answered. "I would have thought that was obvious."  
  
"The only thing that's obvious is that you're putting Straker through hell. Have you thought of that, Lieutenant? You could have convinced her not to dig any deeper. You could have kept her from setting the seal on not only her death, but the commander's as well. Did you think of that? Do you honestly think he'll be worth anything if security disposes of her?"  
  
She stared at him, shaken by the thought. "No! It won't happen like that! It's you who doesn't understand, Colonel. This is their only chance. If Mary comes up with a solution, then everybody wins. Don't you want them to get back together again?"  
  
He snorted. "You have no idea what you're saying! There's far too much hurt on both sides for them to ever be reconciled. Wake up and look at the real world, Lieutenant."  
  
"He loves her, and she loves him. That's reality enough for me, Col. Freeman. Now if you don't mind, I have to get back."  
  
"This is all because she thinks he loves her, isn't it?" he asked suddenly.  
  
She frowned. "What of it?"  
  
He stepped back and let her enter the elevator. "Nothing. Good night, Lieutenant."  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
  
When the rain brought Joan inside late in the afternoon, she heard Mary on the phone.  
  
"No, that won't work at all. I need it done by Friday. And delivered, so that it can be put back up this weekend. I don't care about extra cost. That's fine. You can do it? Thank you! I appreciate it very much. Yes, I'll come in Friday personally to look it over before you deliver it to the cemetery. Four o'clock. Good-bye."  
  
When Mary entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Joan was drying her equipment. "Have a good day?" Joan asked her.  
  
Mary tucked her hair behind her ear. "Busy. There's just so much to do. So many things to set right. But it's falling into place."  
  
"Good. Did you come up with a plan?"  
  
Mary suddenly grinned. "Oh, yes! At three o'clock this morning! I sat right up in bed."  
  
Joan slid the camera into its case. "Will it work, do you think?"  
  
Mary bit her lip. "I think so. It's a bold approach. But I checked it out today at the office, and it looks promising. We'll see what I come up with. Oh, by the way, I'll probably be working late hours for the rest of the week, at least until I have things settled."  
  
"Okay," Joan said as if it wasn't important. "Anything I can help with?"  
  
"No. But thanks. Wish me luck?"  
  
Joan grinned. "You bet."  
  
***  
  
Later, she found Mary reorganizing the kitchen cupboards. "Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
Mary looked exasperated. "No. I'm going bonkers. I thought I could work on things here, but my computer doesn't have the right program. And I'll go crazy sitting around all night thinking about everything until I get to work tomorrow."  
  
Joan took her hand and led her from the kitchen. "I have a much better solution. Come with me."  
  
Mary followed her upstairs and into her bedroom. Joan rifled through a box of paperbacks until she found the one she wanted. "Here. Read this. It's guaranteed to hold your attention and make you laugh in spite of yourself."  
  
Mary accepted the novel and looked at the racy cover dubiously. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah. That book has this really great sex scene aboard a helicopter that you have to read to believe. Wait a minute. You haven't by any chance...?"  
  
Mary blushed. "No, of course not!"  
  
Joan grinned. "Just checking."  
  
***  
  
Wednesday morning, Joan choked on her breakfast when she saw the Entertainment page in the paper. She looked up swiftly and saw Mary outside watering plants on the veranda. She glanced back down at the page, wishing Col. Freeman was here so that she could kick him. This had been his idea, she'd bet her life on it. He was the only one who could have convinced the commander to do such a thing.  
  
Under a large photograph of Straker and Nina Barry emerging from a posh restaurant in evening attire was a short article that read: Ed Straker, the elusive film producer from Wessex, seems to be caught at last in the coils of a beautiful starlet. When asked if there would be interesting news soon, the movie mogul merely flashed his famous enigmatic smile. Can we take that as a yes?  
  
Joan audibly ground her teeth. And closed the paper with a snap as Mary returned indoors. Mary looked her way with an inquiring brow, but Joan only gave her a weak smile and said, "Been up long?"  
  
Mary came over to the table and flipped the paper open. "Yes, Joan. And I've seen the article." She gazed quietly at the photograph, and Joan wondered what she must be thinking.  
  
"Mary, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Oh." Mary met her eyes in surprise. "You don't really believe this, do you?"  
  
Joan blinked. "Don't you?" she asked.  
  
Mary smiled softly. "Oh, no. But it's very sweet of him, don't you think? I must have worried him greatly when I went to his office for him to go to so much trouble." She ran a gentle finger over Straker's face in the photo. "The poor dear."  
  
"Mary, how can you be sure?" Joan asked in awe.  
  
"Oh. It's just so pat, Joan. You said yourself that he didn't date. Now, all of a sudden, barely thirty-six hours after I visit him in his office, he's seen with a woman? And not just any woman, but one he knows I'm aware he has a history with? Oh, yes. He's worried, all right. How I wish I could tell him that everything will be okay."  
  
"Mary," Joan said consideringly. "You're incredible."  
  
But Mary only shook her head.  
  
***  
  
Tensions ran high that day at the inn during Joan's rendezvous with the commander. She held her tongue, but it took an effort. And in consequence, she gave him very little information concerning her hostess' activities. But she justified it to herself by reflecting that she really knew very little. She did, however, make him aware that Mary had a definite plan in mind. But she wasn't certain he was reassured by that knowledge. He had himself under tight control and only nodded at the news.  
  
Men! Joan muttered ferociously under her breath on and off for several hours afterward, wasting two rolls of film and ruining any chance of taking a decent shot of the sunlit stream she'd found.  
  
But late that night while she lay trying to fall asleep, she heard Mary giggling softly across the hall over the novel she was reading, and was reassured.  
  
***  
  
Mary came waltzing into the house early Friday evening saying, "Done, done! It's done! It's finished!"  
  
Joan gasped. "Mary! Are you sure?"  
  
Mary nodded. "Now I just have to sell it to Ed." She laid a hand over her stomach suddenly and muttered, "No butterflies allowed. Go away!"  
  
"When will you go see him?" Joan asked her.  
  
"First thing Monday morning."  
  
That seemed like forever to Joan. "What will you do till then?"  
  
Mary grimaced. "Go crazy. No, wait! We'll celebrate."  
  
Joan's pixie brows lifted. "Oh, yeah?"  
  
"Yes," Mary said decisively. "And tomorrow, we'll go shopping and I'll buy a new dress."  
  
"For Monday?" Joan asked with a grin.  
  
Mary hugged herself. "Yes! Something that will knock his socks off!"  
  
"Now that," Joan replied after due consideration, "sounds like a great plan."  
  
***  
  
Mary left early Sunday morning with some flowers from the garden out back. She didn't tell Joan where she was going, and Joan tried not to worry too much. She returned several hours later sans flowers, her eyes red-rimmed, but her countenance more peaceful than Joan had ever seen before. The lieutenant wisely asked no questions.  
  
***  
  
Mary was very quiet Monday morning at breakfast. Joan had made omelettes, but Mary only picked at hers. Joan didn't think that she'd made them wrong, and since she had no appetite for hers either, she concluded that it had nothing to do with the taste.  
  
Suddenly Mary spoke up. "Joan, I want you to know that I've changed my will. If anything happens today... I mean, if I don't return... I've left the house to you. The papers are in my bedroom dresser, and my solicitor has a copy too."  
  
Joan swallowed the lump in her throat. "Mary," she whispered. "I couldn't!"  
  
"Don't be silly," Mary told her. "You've been a good friend, I've never had a better one, and I expect you to become famous off the pictures you take here. You have to promise me one thing, though. You can't try to confront Ed or anything like that. I know what I'm doing, and I know the risks. Let that be enough, Joan. Okay?"  
  
Numbly Joan nodded.  
  
***  
  
Mary's confidence suffered a slight setback when she entered her ex- husband's outer office.  
  
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Straker is out of the office right now," Miss Ealand told her.  
  
"Oh." Mary thought quickly. "Does he have some time later?"  
  
"I'll check." Miss Ealand looked through the commander's schedule for the day and found some time that afternoon, but just as she glanced up to inform Mary of it, Straker walked into the office. He was followed by Col. Freeman, who looked less than pleased to see the lovely blonde. Miss Ealand was quite surprised by this, since everyone knew that the colonel had a healthy appreciation of blondes.  
  
"Mary!" Straker was stunned to see her. He hadn't been certain that Alec's ploy would work to make Mary let things go, but he had hoped at least to delay the inevitable showdown. But here she was, looking absolutely delicious in a lemon yellow suit that outlined her trim figure to perfection.  
  
She smiled at him, feeling more confident now that he was in the room. "Hello, Ed. I was just about to make an appointment. I can see that you're busy."  
  
"Not at all," he said. "I can fit you in now, if you like."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He gave his second-in-command a look that Mary could not interpret, and Alec sighed. "I'll get back with you on how Bernhardt's first day back on the set is going. Anything else you need, Ed?"  
  
Straker shook his head, his eyes warm as they met the worried ones of his best friend. "Not at the moment, Alec. Thanks." And he ushered Mary into his office.  
  
"Well," he said as calmly as he could as he took his seat behind his desk, "what can I do for you today, Mary?"  
  
She stared at him from her chair for a moment, admiring his imperturbability. Or was it his acting ability? She couldn't decide. She reached into the slim briefcase she had brought with her and extracted a file. "Your cover needs a little work," she said as she handed him the file.  
  
"My cover?" he asked blandly.  
  
Mary sighed. Trust him to make her come out and say it. "Yes. For your military activities."  
  
He lifted an incredulous brow, but she only waved an impatient hand at the file. He swallowed unobtrusively and opened it. And was a little bewildered. "I don't understand. These are our fiscal reports for the past two years."  
  
"Yes. If I had still been uncertain about what you were up to, Ed, those reports would have made it quite clear. The military mentality and money rarely mix well."  
  
"I'm afraid that I'm not following you, Mary."  
  
"Look at them," she said. "Those fiscal reports don't even try to hide the tremendous amounts of money being thrown around this studio. Leave it to the military to do a poor job of covering up cash flow. Who else but the military reports wrenches that cost thousands of dollars?"  
  
He leafed through the reports and saw that she was quite right. The accountants had indeed done a less than stellar job at hiding their funding. He looked up finally and met her eyes boldly. "What are you saying?"  
  
Mary smiled. She really couldn't help it. He had such beautiful eyes. "I'm saying that you need me."  
  
He blinked at her in surprise.  
  
She reached into her briefcase once more and withdrew a second file, which she set on top of the other one on his desk. "I've redone both of those fiscal reports to give you a sample of my capabilities. Now, I realize that without knowledge of the actual dollar amounts it's just a vague approximation; but as you can see, my reports look a lot more realistic than yours do."  
  
Straker simply stared at her in shock, not sure he had ever met this confident businesswoman before. She met his gaze calmly, but finally raised an elegant brow in question. He turned his attention to the second file. And frowned. Indeed, her bogus reports were a vast improvement on the originals. They looked... well, they looked legitimate. "You've obviously put a lot of work into these, Mary," he said finally. "What were you hoping to do?"  
  
She sat back with a confident smile. "I'm hoping you'll hire me to do your accounts."  
  
He thought furiously. The accounting department had a low security clearance rating, since the operatives all worked aboveground in the studio rather than in HQ. And since it was a low rating, they weren't required to pass the rigorous tests the higher clearance operatives had to endure. In theory, her plan just might work. He closed the file and said, "I'm sorry, Mary, but I can't hire you."  
  
Her smile wavered, but was quickly restored. "Oh? You have a policy against hiring ex-wives?"  
  
"No," he said, pleased with her determination. And spunk. "It's just that I don't do the hiring. I'll have to refer you to our Personnel Director." He picked up the phone to contact his secretary, enjoying Mary's attempts to mask her relief. "Miss Ealand, find Alec for me, won't you?"  
  
In his outer office, his secretary looked up at the man who was pacing the room. "Yes, sir. Shall I tell him you wish to see him?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Very well, sir," she answered smoothly and hung up the phone. "Col. Freeman, Commander Straker wishes to see you in his office."  
  
"Right," he said, straightening his jacket with a snap. He headed for the door, but was brought up short when it didn't open. He glanced at the secretary in surprise.  
  
She shook her head at him. "Give it a minute, or he'll know you were here all the time."  
  
He sighed and nodded gratefully. After a moment, she opened the door.  
  
Straker looked up as he entered the office. "Well, Alec. It seems as though I need your assistance after all."  
  
"Oh?" Freeman asked, wondering why Straker was looking so relaxed. He was a nervous wreck himself.  
  
"Yes. Our accountants haven't been doing a good enough job to convince the population that we're harmless. Mary says that it's on account of the military mentality." He gave the fiscal reports to his friend to peruse.  
  
Alec's brows raised and stayed that way as he glanced through the reports. Finally he grunted and said dryly, "Is that all?"  
  
"Apparently not, Alec," his friend said. "She thinks we should hire her to handle our accounts." And he gave the colonel her bogus reports.  
  
Alec dutifully looked them over. He was impressed, but said dismissively as he finished, "We already have a team of accountants."  
  
"Yes, and they are in need of some serious help," Mary told him firmly. "Do you really think that those fiscal reports will fool anyone in the financial community for one minute? All it will take is for someone to check into how your studio manages to stay afloat when others are going down the drain to find the discrepancies. They're glaringly obvious to anyone who does business in the real world. Your accountants need to be taught to think like businessmen."  
  
Freeman asked her, "And you think you can do it?"  
  
Mary smiled. "Yes, I do. I have a sterling reputation with the firm of Bosley and Newman. Mr. Bosley himself would be willing to give me a recommendation, since I was recently promoted to his senior staff."  
  
"If you already have a job, why are you looking for one here?" he asked tersely.  
  
"I retired my position on Friday," she told him.  
  
Alec raised an arrogant eyebrow. "Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?"  
  
Straker frowned slightly at him, but Mary met his eyes squarely. "No. But I wanted everything settled in case... In case."  
  
Alec pursed his lips, refusing to soften. "What was your salary?" She told him, and he choked. "We don't pay our actors that much!" he exclaimed.  
  
"What would you be willing to offer me?" she replied coolly.  
  
He gave her a measuring glance and quoted a figure nearly half of what she had stated. "And that would be as the head of the department. You'd have to handle the retraining yourself."  
  
She nodded. "Fine." She looked at him a moment from under her lashes, then said, "I would also be willing to give seminars to whomever you felt could benefit from my expertise. I'm sure you have contacts who would appreciate an opportunity to learn financial strategy?" The colonel stared at her. "Seminars?" he asked faintly, as if she had just offered him alien technology.  
  
"Yes," she answered, suddenly feeling more confident. "Say, six a year? For a very small fee for each one." And she quoted an amount that made his mouth water.  
  
"Deal!" he said and shook her hand before she could change her mind. Then he mentally added it up and realized that she had somehow managed to get her pay equal to that of her old job after all. He grinned. "Well, I'll be damned!"  
  
"Probably," remarked Straker sarcastically. He had not been pleased with the colonel's methods.  
  
Mary gave him a warm smile of reassurance, feeling wrung out, but triumphant. The commander met her eyes, and his own rather stern expression softened immensely.  
  
Freeman shifted restlessly in the ensuing silence, clearing his throat finally and saying, "Well, Ed. I guess I'll take these reports down to security and see what they think of them."  
  
Straker grinned wickedly. "I'm sure they'll be quite pleased to see them, Alec."  
  
The colonel chuckled as he left the office. He was going to enjoy the next half hour very much.  
  
The commander sat back in his chair and folded his hands. "One question, Mary, if I may?"  
  
"Of course," she answered readily.  
  
"What were you looking for in my military records?"  
  
She blinked, surprised that he knew about that detail. "Um... I was trying to find out when you retired."  
  
He was stunned. No wonder he hadn't found what she had been searching for on that page! What she had sought hadn't been on that or any other page of his file. He said, "Would you like to find out what you've gotten yourself into?"  
  
"Yes," she said, hardly able to believe even now that she had survived the test.  
  
His blue eyes held a fugitive twinkle as he leaned forward and opened a silver cigar case. "Straker," he said quietly.  
  
"Voice identification positive," spoke a tinny voice from the box. "Commander Straker."  
  
He pressed a button, and the office began to descend beneath the ground. He sat back in his chair and watched Mary glance around.  
  
Suddenly she smiled at him. "So that's why your office is small!" she exclaimed. "It's an elevator!"  
  
"Is it small?" he asked her in surprise.  
  
She grimaced slightly and said apologetically, "Well... it's smaller than mine."  
  
Straker laughed.  
  
When the office stopped at the bottom of the shaft, he reached forward and pressed another button and his door opened. He came around the desk and took her arm, escorting her into the underground corridor outside the office. He nodded to the security guard on duty.  
  
Mary noticed a large sign on the wall. An enormous circular logo surrounded a silhouette of a man and his shadow, while a small red rectangle emerged from the side of the circle. Inside the rectangle were the letters S.H.A.D.O. She read the heading beneath the logo and felt her knees go weak. Supreme Headquarters Alien Defense Organisation. She lifted a trembling hand to the sign and traced the capital A.  
  
"Mary?" Straker asked her softly, needing to know if she could handle this news.  
  
The face she turned toward him was white with shock. "Is it real?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She turned back to the sign, shaking her head slowly. Here then was a new level of reality beyond anything she could ever have imagined in her worst nightmares. And her ex-husband wasn't just in charge of some covert operation, but arguably the most important secret military operation on the planet. And what kind of danger did he face every day? Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought. Important. Dear God! What an understatement!  
  
He came forward and touched her arm, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ed."  
  
"No!" he said softly, but with force. "You didn't know, Mary. How could you know?"  
  
She let him lead her down the corridor in silence, still trying to absorb the awful truth. They reached a large room full of banks of computers and people at consoles, and she saw a good-looking man speaking to the woman who had been at the restaurant with Ed in the newspaper photo. The man gave her an interested once-over, but the woman merely frowned at the way Ed held her arm. Mary lifted her chin slightly and turned to watch her ex- husband's face as he spoke to the man.  
  
"Well, Paul? All quiet?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Col. Foster said. "Nothing since last night. Lt. Ellis has been realigning the sensors as a drill exercise." He waved a careless hand at a viewscreen, and Mary saw the face of the woman from the other detective's photographs speaking in low tones to a man at the radar console.  
  
"Good." The commander led Mary past them, then turned back to say, "Oh, Nina. You'll be returning to Moonbase on tonight's flight."  
  
"Yes, sir," she said automatically, but Mary could see that she wasn't very pleased. However, she didn't give it much thought, because she was too stunned by his casual reference to a base on the moon.  
  
Straker gestured Mary to a chair and sat behind his HQ desk with a small sigh. It was still so hard to believe that she was here. In SHADO. And it was all right. He had to bite back a smile at her shellshocked expression. This was all very new to her. "Questions, Mary?" he asked softly.  
  
She couldn't help noticing the large rainbow light mural behind his desk. In this place where nightmares were real, he had somehow managed over the years to remain hopeful. He'd fared much better than she had, she realized. "Ed," she said in wonder. "Moon base?"  
  
He grinned. "Yes. And we also have a fleet of submarines. I wish I could say that it's adequate, but the truth is that we barely hold our own most of the time. We're up against superior forces, Mary."  
  
She nodded slowly, a slight smile coming to her lips. "Then they couldn't have picked a better man to be in charge. You've always excelled at impossible odds."  
  
He grinned, remembering all of a sudden how she had often referred to his dealings with her family. "This is a little bit tougher than your mother, Mary."  
  
She merely shook her head at him.  
  
It suddenly dawned on him that she knew everything now. Everything. He said solemnly, "I'm so sorry."  
  
She met his eyes and didn't need to ask why. "No, Ed. I should have trusted you. I knew that you would do everything you could to save him. I knew that. It wasn't your fault that the medicine got there too late. If it hadn't been for you, Johnny wouldn't have even had that chance."  
  
"But it was my fault, Mary," he said, unable to keep from telling her all of it. "The transport had to be diverted because of a situation that developed with an alien. I could have ordered it back on track. But I didn't."  
  
She gazed at him in silence for a long moment. Then she said, "I think Johnny would have understood that some things are simply more important. I know I do, Ed. It took me a long time, but I do understand."  
  
He couldn't believe he was hearing her absolve him. Even though he'd seen the new headstone for himself yesterday, seen that she'd replaced the name John Rutland with his rightful name, John Straker, he hadn't truly believed that she could forgive him for failing them that way. He didn't know how she could. He wasn't even sure that he would ever forgive himself for letting his son die. "Mary..."  
  
The phone on his desk beeped and recalled him to the present. He picked it up. "Straker. Yes, Alec? Security wants to know how soon we can get our accountants trained properly? I hope you told them that we're working on it. Good. What's that? Hmmm. Yes. Send her in. Thanks."  
  
He looked at his ex-wife solemnly as he replaced the receiver. "Mary, I am sorry."  
  
"About what, Ed?"  
  
"About this," he said with a heavy sigh and opened his office door.  
  
And Joan walked in. "Hi, Mary!" she said with a cheeky grin. She had dreaded this moment, knowing that if Mary's plan worked that she'd have to come clean about her involvement in this scenario. But when she had walked through the control room just now, Nina had stopped her and asked her what she thought she'd been doing? And Joan had been happy to smile into that outraged face--- and tell her. So, she was feeling very lighthearted at the moment.  
  
Mary gasped. "Joan!" She turned to Straker. "I don't under..."  
  
"Mary," he said. "I sent Joan to try to find out what you were doing. And to keep you from learning anything that could cause you trouble." He flicked a severe glance at the lieutenant as he spoke.  
  
She returned his gaze with a grin. "Will it go on my record, sir?"  
  
"Yes, it will, Lieutenant," he answered so sternly that she lost her grin. Then he smiled unexpectedly and added, "As will the commendation for courage beyond the call of duty."  
  
Joan was so relieved that she laughed. "Yes, sir. " She turned to her friend. "Are you mad at me, Mary?"  
  
"Oh, no. Of course not," Mary answered. "I was just so worried that I'd said too much to you."  
  
"You were great," Joan assured her. "Mata Hari couldn't have done better." At Mary's blush, she added, "So what was the plan?"  
  
Her commanding officer answered. "Mary is the new head of our accounting department, Joan."  
  
Lt. Harrington's mouth dropped. "No way."  
  
Mary giggled. "It's true."  
  
Joan shook her head at her. "Whadda ya know? Mary, you're amazing!"  
  
"Thank you," she replied. "But I couldn't have done it without you."  
  
Joan's eyes twinkled. "So... shall we celebrate?"  
  
Mary grinned, but Straker said, "Perhaps another time, Lieutenant. You're returning to Moonbase this evening."  
  
The lieutenant shrugged philosophically. "Oh, well. Next time then. Maybe we can go back to that Chinese place?"  
  
But Mary was looking at her in shock. "You work on the moon?"  
  
Joan grinned. "You bet. And I'll be keeping an eye on you from my post, so you'd better behave."  
  
"Joan," Mary said with a small smile. "I haven't behaved since I met you."  
  
"Good. Keep it up," Joan told her with a wink.  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
Straker threw down the mangled bowtie in disgust and went to answer the doorbell. When he saw who stood there, his scowl only deepened. "What do you want?"  
  
Alec grinned and sauntered into the house. "Just thought you might need a little moral support, Ed." He followed his friend back into the bedroom and surveyed the dresser top strewn with rejected ties. His brows raised, and he said, "And I can see you need it, too."  
  
Straker ignored him, pulling out another tie.  
  
But Alec stopped him. "Here. Try this one." And he selected a sky blue bowtie to hand to him. When he merely got a frown for answer, he explained casually, "It'll bring out your eyes."  
  
Straker grunted, but did not argue. He tied the tie with less than his usual finesse, however; but Alec came forward before he could rip the resulting bow from his neck and deftly straightened it for him.  
  
"There. You're beautiful."  
  
Straker's eyes glared at him from the mirror, but Alec only grinned back. Eventually Ed's expression lightened into a wry smile. "I'm glad you find this humorous."  
  
Alec chuckled. "When was the last time you went on a date?"  
  
His friend sighed. "Too long. I don't remember ever being this nervous."  
  
"Frankly," Alec told him, "I was surprised you even worked up the nerve to ask her. Hell, Ed! She's been working at the studio for two months!"  
  
As Straker shrugged into his black tuxedo jacket, he said quietly, "I didn't want to push it, Alec. I rushed things last time, marrying her after we'd only known each other a few months. I don't want to make the same mistakes."  
  
Alec sighed. "The only mistake would be not to have asked her at all. You two belong together, you know. I've known it since you first met at Decker's party all those years ago." And he had immediately tucked away his own attraction in consequence. "Remember?"  
  
The commander's face softened. "Yes. She was wearing a pink dress. We danced to..." His brows knit as he strained his memory. Then he shrugged. "I don't remember the song. I wonder if she does?"  
  
Alec grimaced. "Probably. They always remember the unimportant things. Listen, Ed. It's a good idea to take things slow. There's a lot of muddy water under your particular bridge, and it won't be easy navigating through it all."  
  
Straker gave him a direct look. "I know, Alec. But the worst of it is over. I can still hardly believe that she's forgiven me for everything. It's what gave me enough courage to finally ask her for a date."  
  
His friend eyed him seriously. "And what about you, Ed? Can you forgive her for what she's done?"  
  
Those tuxedoed shoulders shrugged lightly. "That's all over with, Alec. I told you that she changed the name on the headstone."  
  
Freeman sighed. He wanted to ask Ed if that erased all the pain he'd lived with these past two years, but he held his tongue. Instead he said softly, "Good luck tonight."  
  
Straker's eyes met his in the mirror as he brushed his hair. "Thanks, Alec."  
  
Suddenly Freeman's grin resurfaced. "Maybe you'll get lucky."  
  
Straker fumbled the brush, but managed to catch it before it fell. He said nothing, but the hand that put it back on the dresser shook slightly.  
  
Alec saw that his scowl had returned in full force, and he laughed.  
  
***  
  
"Wow!"  
  
Mary blushed and whirled around for her inspection. "What do you think? Do you like it?"  
  
Joan looked over the soft lines and flow of the pink dress, trying to figure out how her friend could pull off that shade without looking like an idiot. "It looks great. However can you wear magenta?"  
  
Mary glanced up from putting on her heels, surprised. "Is it too bold?"  
  
Joan shook her head. "No. It's just so very pink!"  
  
Her friend rechecked her reflection in the mirror. "Is that bad? I wanted to wear pink for our first date. When we first met, I was wearing pink."  
  
"That shade?" Joan asked incredulously.  
  
"Well, no. But pastels look silly at my age," Mary explained. She fingered the low neckline of the evening gown anxiously. "Is it too much?"  
  
"No way," answered Joan immediately. "You'll have him stuttering."  
  
"Oh!" Mary blushed furiously and shook her head, but she was smiling at the possibility.  
  
Joan chuckled and said, "So. What are the chances that he'll sweep you off your feet tonight?"  
  
Mary's breath caught, and she put a hand on her racing heart. "I don't know," she whispered. "Do you think it could happen?"  
  
"In that dress?" Joan's eyes twinkled. "It's a certainty."  
  
Mary met her own eyes in the mirror. "Oh," she murmured dreamily.  
  
***  
  
He tried to look as though he was eating the excellent food instead of pushing it around on his plate. But he really had no appetite, and in fact, couldn't imagine that there was room in his stomach for anything besides the butterflies that insisted on hovering there. "I understand from Alec that your first seminar was a great success. You seem to have already made a reputation for yourself."  
  
"Really?" Mary asked, pleased at the praise. "It went very well, I think. There were a lot of questions afterward, which is always a good thing. I'm looking forward to the next one."  
  
He nodded, taking a sip of coffee. "Good. You certainly have no trouble staying busy, I noticed." He had in fact searched all over for her in order to ask her out.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. The work is very interesting. Not at all like my former job. It's so much more relaxed at the studio. I actually got to see one of your shoots last week. You're very good."  
  
"One of my shoots?" he asked in surprise. "When was that?"  
  
"On Tuesday. It was a scene between you and three other people in a parlor. It was very tense and dramatic. I was holding my breath."  
  
He smiled. "Oh, yes. That was an intense scene. It looked good to you?"  
  
"Yes. Very much so."  
  
He nodded. "Great. You should have seen the rehearsals! They were a nightmare. But if the finished scene was believable, then it was all worth it."  
  
She nearly lost herself in his smiling blue eyes and had to blink to come down to earth. "How do you handle such a workload?" she asked him.  
  
He knew that she was referring to his double employment, both at the studio and at SHADO. He gave a shrug. "It's not really that difficult," he said. "It's more a matter of compartmentalizing everything. And keeping my daily schedule straight in my head." Mary shook her head at him. "You're too modest."  
  
He flushed and demurred. "Not at all."  
  
She grinned suddenly, realizing that she had flustered him. "Ed, it must be almost impossible to get everything done on time. And knowing you, I can believe that you push yourself too hard. I didn't need the past two months to show me that."  
  
Straker smiled, saying playfully, "Mary, have you been keeping an eye on me?"  
  
She blushed, but said seriously, "I'm so glad that Alec is still with you. I know he wouldn't let you work too hard without saying something."  
  
He grimaced and agreed. "He's a mother hen."  
  
Mary laughed. "See?"  
  
His eyes shone at hearing her laughter, his breath backing up in his throat at the way her countenance lit up. "Mary..."  
  
She met his eyes and felt every bone in her body melt. "Ed," she murmured, laying her slender hand on his where it rested on the table.  
  
He swallowed and gazed into her beautiful eyes for a long moment, then glanced away momentarily to signal the waiter for their check.  
  
***  
  
They were both rather quiet on the drive home, and he hoped with all his might that their thoughts were going in the same direction. But as he pulled into the driveway of her house, he was suddenly flooded with memories of when he had come here years ago to pick up John and bring him home again. He looked at the front door and swallowed. He had never crossed that threshold before. And now he wasn't at all sure that he could. Not tonight. Not on their first date.  
  
Mary watched him carefully, realizing from his sudden stillness that something was wrong. When she saw him staring at the front door, she took a breath and said quietly, "You know, Ed. I've been wondering a lot about your place. What does a bachelor's pad look like?"  
  
He turned to her in surprise and relief. "Would you like to see it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He searched her eyes. "Tonight?"  
  
She smiled and fingered his sleeve. "That would be wonderful."  
  
***  
  
"Well? What's your verdict?" he asked as he closed the front door of his house.  
  
Mary walked down the steps and looked around the room. She saw that he still collected antique pistols; he had a set she'd never seen before hanging on one wall. It really was an impressive room, boasting more than one couch and walls covered with paintings and sculpture. "It's like a museum," she murmured in awe.  
  
He made an odd grimace. "I'm afraid I'm not here much. It lacks a lived- in air, doesn't it?"  
  
She was startled that he thought that was what she meant, but said upon consideration, "I suppose it could use a woman's touch."  
  
He brushed a hand lightly over her hair. "Volunteering, Mary?"  
  
She met his teasing eyes bravely, but found it impossible to answer him when he stood so close.  
  
His fingers skimmed down her jaw and rested a moment on the delicate skin of her throat. "Rachmaninov?" he asked cryptically.  
  
She sighed with relief, understanding him perfectly. "That would be fine."  
  
Straker walked over and turned on the stereo. Mary took advantage of the respite to examine her surroundings more closely. She noticed a large zebra skin rug on the floor and went over to it, sinking down to run a hand over the hide. "This is nice. Quite the thing for a bachelor's pad, I suppose."  
  
He met her smile with a wry one of his own. "Actually, that rug was a gift from the cast and crew of the first movie I starred in."  
  
"Oh?" she asked, sensing a story.  
  
"Yes." He came over and sat on the edge of the nearby couch. His smile was rueful. "It was a joke. You see, there was this love scene on the rug between myself and the female lead. I had a really hard time with it. I think it took 64 takes before it was even acceptable. The director was ready to shoot me. So at the cast party, they gave me the prop. To practice with."  
  
Mary chuckled, feeling sudden joy as the ghosts of a hundred dreams of beautiful movie stars in his arms faded into nothingness. She looked at him from under her lashes and said softly, "I don't remember you ever having a problem."  
  
His breath lodged in his throat. "Mary..." he breathed huskily and sank onto the rug beside her, taking her face in his trembling hands. He looked at her for a long moment, savoring her nearness. Then he kissed her. 


End file.
